DOALS III Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad
by TracyJean
Summary: As Harm fights for his life, Mac is left to worry .... and deal with the fallout when the truth about their relationship comes out.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note – Since does not allow song lyrics in posted stories anymore, I can't post the relevant lyrics anymore, but the title for this chapter comes from the song 'Two Out of Three Ain't Bad', written by Jim Steinman, performed by Meat Loaf. The song appeared on Meat Loaf's 1977 album, Bat Out Of Hell. And the title for the overall series is a line from Whitney Houston's song 'All At Once' from her debut album.

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PRISONER OF WAR CAMP  
CHECHNYA

1 …. 2 …. 3 …. 4 ….

Sergei counted the reps under his breath as he performed one-armed push ups, ignoring the drizzle beginning to fall and the darkness surrounding him. He couldn't sleep. He did close his eyes, trying to remember the sights and sounds of his youth – the grass under his bare feet, the chill of the Taiga as he waded along its banks, the fresh mountain air from his fruitless attempts to discover his father's final resting place - instead of muddy ground his fingers were slipping in, the cage surrounding him and the uncertainty of his brother's fate. Although he'd seen Daniel Mason loitering around the camp in the company of Colonel Vonikoff, the CIA agent hadn't spoken to him since that morning. He just wished he knew whether the lack of news was good or bad. Was this how Harm had felt when news had first reached him that he'd disappeared in Chechnya? To be honest, he barely knew his brother. But that didn't stop the dull ache in his heart. They were a part of each other, the same blood. It had never been more apparent as now, when Harm was in trouble.

5 …. 6 …. 7 ….

"Zhukov," a voice called out, Sergei's eyes popping open as he swore softly. He recognized the voice. He could almost feel the air still around him as everyone in the cage – those who weren't attempting to sleep, at any rate - stopped what they were doing, hoping to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. Sergeant Ranov wasn't just doing his job …. he truly hated Russians. The rumor around the camp was that his entire family had been killed several years earlier during one of many bombing raids on Grozny. Whether it was true or not, Ranov seemed to take pleasure in devising new ways to torment those in his charge. Because of Sergei's special circumstance, he was used to being ignored by Ranov. As much as the man hated Russians, he tended to stay away from Sergei rather than risk the wrath of his superiors by hurting him. In a way, it was worse than any amount of physical torture he could have subjected Sergei to, for Ranov's lack of attention towards Sergei drew attention from the other prisoners. It just gave them one more reason to resent Sergei.

Sergei drew his knees up under him, pushing himself into a crouching position then slowly standing as he turned to face the direction of the voice. As he walked towards the fence, he wondered if what Daniel Mason had warned him about had come true, that the Chechens had somehow heard of his brother's accident. But if they'd found out, surely they'd made the connection with Mason's visit and realized that he'd already been told.

He shivered inwardly when he drew close enough to make out the chilling smile on Ranov's face, his eyes seeming to glitter like obsidian orbs in the darkness, standing out against his pale skin. Feeling the eyes of the other prisoners on him, he made his way along the fence to the gate, which Ranov was making a display of unlocking. "Out," he said in heavily-accented English as he released the lock, pulling the gate open.

Sergei thought his use of English instead of Russian – Ranov was one of the few Chechens at the camp who spoke both languages in addition to his native Chechen dialect – rather telling. This had to be about Harm, he thought, clenching his hands into fists behind his back. If he hadn't been wearing gloves – threadbare in places, but better than nothing in the chilly mountain air – his fingernails would have been digging into the palms of his hands, likely drawing blood. Silently, he walked through the gate, making note of the outlines of guards in the darkness, rifles at the ready, as the Chechen locked the gate.

Grabbing Sergei's upper arm – he couldn't have struggled even if he'd been suicidal enough to try as the man had a grip like a vise – he pulled him towards the camp headquarters. Sergei stumbled over a small rock in his path, his arm feeling like it was being wrenched from its socket as Ranov yanked him back up after he hit the ground, his wrists and knees stinging from the impact with the ground.

"Come along," Ranov said impatiently, as if Sergei had any choice in the matter. "The Colonel wishes to see you."

Sergei was curious, but he wasn't about to ask the reason why. He'd find out soon enough and if he was to find out that his brother was …. he couldn't complete the thought. No, Harm was alive, he told himself. Surely he would have felt it if he wasn't. But if he was wrong, he didn't want his memory of finding out to be of the smile on Ranov's face as he told Sergei the news.

Soon enough, Sergei was being shoved through the door of the headquarters, blinking rapidly as he adjusted to the sudden brightness, unusual for this time of night. The generators powering what little electrical equipment there was at the camp were usually powered down at night to conserve power. Stealing a glance at Colonel Vonikoff seated behind his desk, the omnipresent cigarette dangling from his fingertips, he had the feeling the man hadn't even been to bed yet. He had the look of a man who was extremely busy.

Vonikoff said something in Chechen, obviously a dismissal from his tone. Ranov turned on his heel and strode out, but not before leaning over to whisper in Sergei's ear, "Perhaps he let you out for funeral."

Trying not to let the man's taunt get to him, he forced his attention on the Colonel, studying his expression intently as he stood at attention in front of the desk. He could find nothing in the other man's expression which gave a hint as to what this was all about. A radio was playing in the background, but not loudly enough that Sergei could make out whether it was news or music. If it was news, then the likelihood that the Chechens knew of Harm's accident multiplied.

Vonikoff let Sergei remain at attention for a long moment, studying the younger man impassively. This one prisoner had caused him nearly as many headaches as all the others combined. In a way, Vonikoff was happy to be rid of him. "You may go," he said in Russian, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. Sergei stared at him, confusion evident on his face. Surely, he hadn't been dragged here simply to be immediately sent back to the cage. Then again, one never knew with the Chechens. Was this some new form of torture?

After another moment, Vonikoff clarified, "Your American …. brethren have purchased your freedom for quite a sum of money … and weapons. Mr. Mason will escort you out of here."

Sergei turned as Mason entered the room, unable to dispel the growing feeling of dread gnawing at him. His freedom bought for dollars and bullets …. Harm would never have agreed to this. If he knew nothing else about his brother, he knew that. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mason cut him off. "We should get going," he said, giving Sergei a hard look, as if warning him not to say anything, even in English, before stepping forward to shake Vonikoff's hand. "We're meeting Mr. Webb in Moscow."

Unable to watch them shake hands over the deal that bought him his freedom, Sergei stepped outside into the crisp night air, staring up at the sky above him. There were no stars out tonight and the rain, barely a mist before, was falling harder now, quickly soaking him to the skin. After a moment, Mason joined him, hoisting an umbrella over their heads. "I've got a change of clothes for you in the car," he said. "We should get going. We have to drive to Grozny to catch the military transport flight that will take us to Moscow."

Sergei turned and stared at him, a multitude of questions racing through his mind. But one question was more important than the others. "My brother?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling for fear of the answer. "Has there been word?"

"He was picked up yesterday morning, US time," Mason replied. "The last time I spoke to Mr. Webb, he said that your brother was being transferred from the aircraft carrier to a hospital in Virginia as we speak."

So Harm was alive. His relief was only momentary, however. If Harm was alive, why the sudden urge to get him released from the camp? "Then why ….?" he began, searching for the words to convey the outrage he was feeling over the manner of his release. "I am not worth the price paid for my freedom."

Mason stared at him, incredulous. "You've just been freed after spending five months in a prison camp and you're questioning the manner in which it was done?" he asked.

Sergei straightened and said firmly, "My father was a prisoner for eleven years. He would not have …." He trailed off, trying to think of the correct word in English. Giving up after a moment, he rephrased. "He would not have wanted his freedom under such conditions."

"Even if it meant going home to his wife and son?" Mason asked. Sergei just started at him. From everything his mother and brother had told him, he did not think Harmon Rabb, Sr. was a man who would have compromised his principles. He couldn't know about his stepmother's feelings on the matter, but he was reasonably sure that his brother would not have wanted his father to compromise those principles, either. "Well, you're free now. Within a day, you should be in the US. And any other questions you have, I suggest you take them up with Mr. Webb."

Without a word, Sergei got in the car, pulling the door closed behind him. He rested his head against the cool window, closing his eyes. Mason studied him as he got in behind the wheel and started the engine. He was surprised by Sergei's naiveté, wondering how long he would last in the US with that attitude. A part of him wished he could be a fly on the wall when Sergei brought up his concerns to Clayton Webb.

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I-95 SOUTH  
JUST NORTH OF RICHMOND, VA

"There's a gas station coming up at the next exit," Mic said with a glance at the blue road sign advertising which gas stations were available. "Did you want to stop and get some more coffee or a bite to eat?"

Renee shook her head, not even turning to look at him. Ever since A.J. had called, she'd been operating on auto pilot. She wasn't sure what she would have done if Mic hadn't quickly jumped in with an offer to drive her to Portsmouth, even if it was likely the last place he wanted to be. Sure, she probably could have ridden with A.J. and Harm's family – assuming Harm's family deigned to let her into their tight circle. At least with Mic, she'd someone who knew what she was going through, who understood her fears beyond wondering if Harm was going to survive.

"Okay," he acquiesced, falling silent as he stared out at the dark road stretching out in front of them.

"Look, Mic," Renee began after a moment, finally turning to look at him. He was beyond tired, she could tell in the dim light inside the car. There was a weariness in his eyes that she knew had nothing to do with the amount of sleep he'd gotten – or hadn't gotten, more accurately - in the last twenty-four hours. This was a man who was on the verge of losing everything he held dear, even if he wasn't quite ready to admit that to himself or anyone else. He didn't have to come with her to Portsmouth. God only knew how hard it was going to be for him, watching Mac worry over Harm. That was something else they knew – which A.J. had told them when asked by Mic - that Mac was aware of the sudden change in Harm's condition and was on the way to Portsmouth herself. If Mic was bothered by the fact that his fiancée had kept in touch with A.J., but hadn't even felt the need to call him, he kept it mostly to himself. "I am gratefully that you're doing this for me."

"No worries," he said, his tone tight. "I guess I should go down there myself …. since Sarah's going to be there."

"Yeah," she replied wearily, staring down at her lap. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she looked back up, only her glistening eyes giving a hint of the torment she was feeling. "Do you think, um, what do you think we'll find down there?"

"I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. That was the question he'd asked himself more times than he could count since A.J.'s call. Time didn't make the answer come any easier …. or make it any easier to swallow. He wanted to know that when he arrived in Portsmouth and saw Mac that she would fall into his arms and let Renee take care of Rabb. _Probably when hell freezes over_, he thought scornfully. _What is it about Rabb that has her on the verge of throwing away everything we have together? _"I'm not sure I want to know right now."

"I think we're a little past the 'don't ask, don't tell' thing, don't you?" she mused. "I mean, Mac's been MIA ever since this whole thing began and …. I just wonder. When he wakes up, whose name will be coming from his lips? Especially if they did …." She trailed off, unable to complete the thought. "That time, when he called me by her name, I remember the look in his eyes, just before he, um, said it. He'd never looked at me before like that. In a single, unguarded moment, I saw everything I'd ever wanted to see in his eyes, but it wasn't for me."

Mic silently digested this, and then offered, "Remember when they went to Russia? Sarah didn't call to let me know she'd arrived and I couldn't get a hold of her. I asked the Admiral if he'd heard from her. He said that Rabb was missing, too. Then he asked me a question and I didn't know how to respond."

Any other time, Renee might have been furious to learn that Harm and Mac had disappeared into Chechnya together – for she had no doubt that was where Mic's story was heading. Harm hadn't talked much about that trip, beyond finding out about his brother, and certainly not about the fact that Mac had been with him in Chechnya, rather than in Moscow, where Mic had previously told her Mac had been sent by A.J.. Now, as much as she was loath to admit it, she was merely resigned to the truth, whatever that was. _When did I decide to just accept whatever is going on between Harm and Mac?_ she asked herself, her breath catching as she realized what she was thinking. To her own mind, she sounded so certain that there was something going on between them.

Had something been going on back as far as Russia? She shook her head, surprised at the thought. No, they'd been in Russia to work and she couldn't imagine anything, even Mac, coming between Harm and what he saw as his duty. How many times had she been confronted with that issue herself? She knew Harm at least that well. At least she thought she did. Or thought she had. Now, she wasn't sure if she really knew him at all. "What did he ask?" she asked.

"If I was upset that she was missing or that they might be missing together," he replied, sighing heavily. "Then she came back and I couldn't make myself ask her …. Oh, I know he was in Chechnya and she was in Chechnya. I did get that much out of her. But beyond that, I kept telling myself that I was better off not knowing."

"So now what?" she demanded, digesting the fact that A.J. apparently was aware of something going on between his senior attorneys. If A.J. knew, or suspected, something, how many other people did? Were she and Mic going to turn out to be God's greatest fools for hanging on like this? Did everyone know that there was something between Harm and Mac except for them? What kind of idiots did that make them? "I don't think we can just ignore this, not anymore. If I didn't know that Harm's been lost in the middle of the ocean, then on an aircraft carrier for most of today, I'd think she's been with him." Sighing, she stared out the windshield into darkness, biting on her lower lip. "Mind if I ask you something?"

"I always thought you were one for saying what was on your mind," he joked, although laugh that followed rang hollow.

She shrugged. "What if …. If they did …." She couldn't make herself say the words, even as it increasingly became apparent that there might be something to them. It was one thing to admit it to herself, in the depths of her mind. But to say the words out loud would put some kind of finality to them, as if etching them in stone. "What will you do? Can you live with her after that?"

Mic glanced away. He'd been wrestling with that same question himself. It was different when all he'd had to wonder was if there had been something there, in the past. Both he and Mac had their histories and it had been his contention all along that they needed to leave that stuff in the past. It had led to more than one argument between them – there were parts of her past which she seemed not quite willing to let go of – but he believed they could overcome that. But this wasn't in the past, if their supposition was correct. This alleged dalliance was very much a part of the present and was staring them right in the face – or it would be in a few hours. Maybe it would have been easier if he wasn't aware of certain facts of Mac's past.

"Did Rabb ever tell you about the first case we were assigned to work together?" he asked. She shook her head, puzzled by the apparent change of topic. "Sarah had been married...actually was still married when I met her. Her husband turned up dead and she and her ex-lover were charged with the crime. Rabb defended Sarah and I defended her ex-lover. He'd been her CO at a previous duty station."

Connecting the dots in her mind, Renee said, "I assume the point of this story is that she was still married when she was having an affair with her CO …. Wait a minute, I thought that kind of thing was frowned on in the military?"

"Statute of limitations had run out on the adultery by the time the story came out," he explained, feeling slightly guilty about telling Renee something so personal. But the adultery was hardly a secret – her Article 32 hearing was a matter of public record and it had been mentioned there, even if it hadn't been the focus of the hearing - so it wasn't like Renee could use the information, he justified to himself. And that was assuming she would stoop to something so crass.

"So your point is what exactly?" she asked, attempting to keep a tight lid on her emotions. Mac had never really struck her as the sort to do something like that. She'd seemed too squared away, too upstanding …. But if she had a history …. She tried to tell herself that Harm was too honorable, too noble to fall into that, but the voice inside her head didn't sound entirely confident on that point. After all, Mic had just told her that Harm had defended Mac when she'd been accused of killing her husband. If he really did love Mac, could anything have stopped them – even relationships with other people? This put an entirely different spin on everything. "If she's done it once, she might do it again? Is that what you're trying to tell me? And you want to marry her knowing this?"

"It's in the past," he insisted, his denial sounding weak to his own ears.

Renee opened her mouth to retort, but decided against it. It wasn't fair to take out her frustration on Mic. He was in the same leaky boat that she was. But she was afraid of what would happen if Mic did decide to walk away. If he turned back, then Harm was as good as lost to her. Hadn't she once told Harriet that she prayed that Mic wouldn't get hit by a bus? She'd known for a while that it would be easier to hold onto Harm as long as Mac was taken. She'd just never expected everything to play out like this. "But you said you've known about this all along, right?" she continued in a more reasonable tone, trying to assure herself as much as him. "You obviously have never seen it as a problem before, so maybe you're right and it isn't. Maybe you're reading too much into this. Maybe we both are. Past behavior isn't necessarily an indicator of what may happen in the future."

"Somehow, I doubt you really believe that," he replied, his eyes steady on the road as he changed lanes in preparation for exiting onto the bypass around Richmond. "Let's turn this around. Let's say – hypothetically, of course – that they, uh, that they did have an affair. Can you just forget about that and go on with him as before?" He hated asking, but as much as she needed to know what he was going to do, he needed the same.

It burned him, the idea that he might lose Mac to Harm, but he wasn't sure if he could really live with the alternative. Knowing that Mac had issues with fidelity in the past, and in the face of all the circumstantial evidence that Mac had strayed and only days before they were to be married, could he live with her day in and day out without wondering where she was when she wasn't with him? Could he take her into his arms, make love to her, without wondering if she enjoyed Harm's hands and mouth on her body, if she found more pleasure taking him inside of her. How could he not wonder if it was Harm's face she saw when she closed her eyes? Had it been only luck that he hadn't faced the same circumstance Renee had, that of being called the wrong name at an inopportune moment?

"You're right," Renee said shortly, "this is all hypothetical. We don't know anything for sure."

Despite her clipped tone, Mic caught the note of uncertainty in her voice. He reached over and awkwardly patted her shoulder, conveying the silent message that he understood. Before he could come up with any words of comfort, she continued in a quiet, faraway voice, "All I've ever wanted is what Mac has with you. I want Harm to love me like that, like I'm the center of his universe. But he can't even say the words …." She turned to him, and in the dim light, he could see the tears glistening in her eyes. "He's never even told me that he loves me. The most I've been able to get out of him is that he wants me in his life. But I don't know if that is enough anymore."

"The bastard doesn't deserve you," he said emphatically. It was so much easier to condemn him for what was going on instead of Mac. It was easier to blame outside forces than to look for the cracks in the foundation of his house. "Stringing you along like that …."

"To be fair, it's not really like that." Renee protested, not quite sure why she felt compelled to defend Harm. God knew Mic was probably right. "Maybe I've built this up into too much."

"How so?" he asked. "You've been with him for almost a year and a half. That's pretty long term, if you ask me, especially these days. It would seem to imply some kind of commitment."

"Yeah, but at least you got that ring on Mac's finger," she pointed out. "I haven't even gotten a hint that our relationship might possibly move in that direction, even if it's at some point in the distant future."

He was silent for a long moment, contemplating what Renee had just said. How many times had Mac said those words, told him that she loved him? He said them to her more times than he could count. He tried to remember some of the significant moments in their relationship. When he returned to Washington, she hadn't said much of anything. He told himself at the time that it was because she was so surprised at his sudden appearance. She hadn't really said much of anything the night she'd finally moved the ring over, either, had simply moved the ring over without a word. Or the day they set a wedding date – she'd seemed a bit distracted at their lunch, which she'd claimed to due to a heavy schedule at work since A.J. was gone and Rabb was covering for him, meaning she was handling some of Rabb's normal workload.

Then there was the engagement party. He'd told Renee that it was best to let Harm and Mac have time to say their goodbyes. Goodbyes which had taken the entire night? And after that she'd been so distant. Was that when it began? He'd told Renee that he wasn't worried that night, but he would give just about anything now to have been a fly on the wall that night. What had they said to each other that night that might have changed everything?

His ring was on Mac's finger, but did he really have her? Could he ever, as long as Rabb was around?

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To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

ABOUT THE SAME TIME  
I-95 SOUTH  
NEAR RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

"Why don't you try to get some sleep, Chloe?" Kyle suggested, making a display of glancing at his watch, even if he couldn't really make out the time in the darkness. "It's getting late." He turned around from his position in the front passenger seat to look at her, worry in his eyes. He knew that she practically worshipped Harmon Rabb and he hated what this situation was doing to her. But he also knew there was no way to make it easier to bear. He'd learned that lesson all too well in the weeks and months after so many of his shipmates had died on the _Stark_. Even fourteen years later, he could still sometimes hear their screams when he closed his eyes. Sometimes, he would roll over in bed when he was home, expecting to find his wife lying next to him.

"I can't sleep, Daddy," she whispered, her voice trembling as her fingers worried the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing, a Baltimore Orioles shirt that Harm had sent her for her birthday, along with the tickets to the game they were to have been attending tomorrow.

Kyle thought about moving to the back and sitting with her. She could act so grown up, but right now, he was reminded that she was still very much a little girl – a very scared little girl. There had been so much of her life that he'd missed out on and he only wanted to be there for her now. "Chloe …." he began, trying to strike a note of reassurance with his tone.

"I close my eyes, but I still can't stop thinking …." She trailed off, glancing at little AJ, secured in his car seat in the seat in front of her, looking so peaceful in sleep, despite being on the road at a time when he normally would have already been in bed. She really envied him his peaceful refuge. Reaching over the back of the seat, she stroked his soft cheek with the backs of her fingers.

Harriet, who had given up the front seat to Kyle – Bud was driving - so she could sit in the back with the kids in case AJ got fussy being out so late, gave Chloe a stern, motherly glance. "Chloe," she said firmly, "seat belt."

Chloe opened her mouth to protest that she was so far in the back that she didn't think a seat belt really mattered when her father caught her eye and nodded. Grumbling to herself, she fastened the seatbelt, maneuvering so that the shoulder strap was behind her so she could sit sideways, stretching her legs out on the bench seat. Seeing that Kyle and Harriet were pretty much satisfied, she returned to her previous topic before her father had decided it was bedtime. "What else did the Admiral say?" she demanded. "I thought Harm was going to be okay. The Admiral didn't act like he was in that much danger this morning. He's not going to die, is he?" Her final words came out in such a rush that all the adults could make out was the word 'die'.

Harriet and Kyle exchanged glances. So much for getting her to go to sleep or to change the subject. "He didn't really say a lot," Harriet said carefully, as she'd had the misfortune of once again answering the phone when A.J. called with the bad news. "Pretty much all he told me is that Harm took a turn for the worse and is being flown to Portsmouth tonight for surgery." That much was true. It had been more what he'd not said that had frightened her. He'd used what she'd once read astronauts' wives called 'The Tone'. Generally, it conveyed the message, without saying the words, that the situation was going to hell in a handcart. Just hearing his voice had scared the hell out of her more than his words ever could, even more so than they had last night, when he'd called to first inform them of the accident.

Last night, they hadn't known one way or the other, so it was easier to delude themselves into believe that everything would be okay. But now …. Harriet almost wished that she didn't know just how dire the situation was. There was something to be said for blissful ignorance – at least until reality came crashing down on you, as it had for her and Bud months earlier. This wasn't the quite the same, but the pain in her heart hurt just as much. She'd often wished for a sibling. That wasn't meant to be, but in her heart, Harm and Mac were as close to her as any brother or sister her parents might have given her.

"But that's bad, right?" Chloe persisted, interrupting her thoughts. "He wasn't supposed to be transferred to the hospital until tomorrow, so if something happened that made them transfer him tonight, it must be bad."

"Maybe something came up that is beyond the capabilities of the carrier's sickbay to handle," Bud suggested, exchanging a glance with Kyle, who nodded approvingly at the evasion, as both were well aware that a carrier sickbay was equipment to handle just about anything, including many surgical procedures, and that Harm's condition must be grave for him to be transferred immediately. But if they could spare Chloe that knowledge, at least for a little while, what was a little white lie in the grand scheme of things? After all, everything could still turn out fine and she need never know just how close it really was.

"Right," Kyle agreed, mentally crossing his fingers. "With all the cutbacks in the Navy, nothing is as fully staffed as it used to be, including sickbay on board a carrier. Anyway, from what you've told me, Commander Rabb is a fighter. I'm sure he'll be fine."

Bud and Harriet quickly uttered their agreement while Chloe studied the three of them with apprehensive eyes, trying to figure out if they were telling her the truth. As much as she used to lie herself, she thought she could spot one coming a mile off, but it was so hard to tell in the dim light. As long as she couldn't see the truth in their eyes, maybe she could just pretend for a while longer that everything was going to be okay.

"Hey, I remember that Mac once told me," Chloe said, trying to muster enthusiasm for the idea that Harm would be okay, "that during his first crash, Harm ejected over the deck of the carrier. That's got to be much worse than ejecting into the ocean, right? I mean, wouldn't it really hurt to hit the deck like that?"

"You're probably right," Harriet agreed, hoping she sounded convincing. Sometimes, for all that she'd been through, Chloe could be such an innocent. Or maybe it was just an act, like so many other things in the young girl's life. Either way, Harriet didn't want to be the one to shatter her illusions. Her eyes met Kyle's and he nodded his agreement at her approach. "Harm's never talked much about his first crash, but scuttlebutt says he was on medical leave for several months afterwards. But to look at him now, you'd never know any of that."

"Right," Chloe said, trying to sound convinced. "He's got two of those – what did Mac call them – Distinguished Flying Crosses. So he's really strong and brave and that's good, right? And he's got Mac with him -" She stopped abruptly as she suddenly realized what she was saying.

"Oh, God," she exclaimed. "Mac is with him. Why is this happening to them now? This was supposed to finally be their time. They were going to talk to Mic and Renee and then everything was going to work out …."

Kyle gave Harriet a surprised glance and she realized that Chloe hadn't told her father what was going on. Of course, she'd spent the day at Bud and Harriet's and hadn't talked to her father since they left JAG except for a brief call mid-afternoon to see how she was holding up. More and more, the truth was coming out and Harriet suddenly realized that there was the very real possibility that everything could blow up in Portsmouth when Mic showed up, expecting to finally be able to comfort his fiancée only to find out that she wasn't his anymore or when Renee arrived, expecting to take her place at Harm's bedside. Not only that, but it appeared everyone else would find out before Mic and Renee did. 'Later,' she mouthed to Kyle. He nodded his understanding and turned his attention back to his worried daughter.

Harriet struggled to think of something to say. Everything had gotten so much more complicated and, although everything else seemed to pale in the face of Harm's precarious condition, she didn't think Mic would appreciate that. His first concern was likely to be the woman he thought he was supposed to be marrying. Renee obviously wasn't going to appreciate another woman hovering over the man she still thought was her boyfriend.

She realized that Chloe was saying her name. "I'm sorry, Chloe," she said, attempting a smile. "My mind was just wandering."

Chloe leaned forward as far as she could. "Are you thinking what I am?" she asked softly. "Mic's probably on his way to Portsmouth, expecting Mac to be there. What's he going to do when he realizes that Mac only wants to be with Harm? It's not like she's going to even think about giving him the time of day under these circumstances."

"There's not a lot Mic can do," Harriet pointed out, trying to sound optimistic. "Ideally, he and Mac should have been able to sit down and talk about this and I imagine they will eventually, once Harm is out of danger. I know Mic and Renee aren't going to like that answer, but want they want is really secondary right now."

"But are they going to understand that?" Chloe countered. "You heard Mac last night, talking about how Mic steamrollered her into accepting his proposal. She was emotionally vulnerable because she thought Harm was going to Chechnya. What's he going to do to her now that she's facing this?"

'Emotionally vulnerable'? Sometimes Chloe surprised her, sounding so grown-up and mature. Then again, Harriet thought, maybe it was a mask covering up the little girl scared for a dear friend. God knew it was easier for Harriet to concentrate on trying to comfort Chloe than to be left alone with her own thoughts and fears.

"Essentially, Mic is a decent person," Harriet tried to assure her. "He …."

"Yeah, so decent that he was more worried about the status of the wedding than about Harm," Chloe remarked snidely. "I wonder if he cared whether Harm lived or died outside of how it affected him and his plans."

"Chloe, that's a horrible thing to say," Harriet admonished her, her voice rising enough that Bud and Kyle both glanced back at her, startled. Bud quickly diverted his eyes back to the road while Kyle gave Harriet a questioning glance. She shook her head, indicating it wasn't necessary for him to intervene. He nodded acceptance and settled back into his seat, keeping watch on them out of the corner of his eye.

"Come on, Harriet," she shot back. "If Mac had been with all of us last night and today, I wouldn't be surprised if Mic had been pressing her to go through with the wedding, regardless. I can almost hear him spouting some crap about Harm not wanting her to put her life on hold or about letting Renee worry about Harm while Mac concentrated on the wedding and …. him." Chloe nearly spit out the last word, growing frustrated about Mic Brumby upsetting the happy life that Harm and Mac were destined to have.

As much as she wanted to protest, Harriet wondered if there wasn't something to what Chloe was saying. Mic had been very reluctant to start calling around to cancel the wedding arrangements. Was Chloe right? Would he have been pushing to go ahead with the wedding if Mac had been with them at JAG? He didn't seem to understand why Mac was so upset that her best friend – as far as Mic knew, that's all he was to her – was missing and might have been dead for all they knew. The only thing that had seemed to matter to him was that Mac was not with him.

_i But he was so nice to Renee /i _, a voice inside her head countered. i _Maybe he just wanted to be there to comfort Mac. Isn't that what any man should want to do for the woman he loves/i _

_i Yeah, but shouldn't what Mac wants be just as important/i _another voice countered. Suddenly, she remembered an incident several months past, the import of which had escaped her at the time. After Sarah's funeral, A.J. had organized a get together at his house, a chance for everyone to be together and to grieve. Although it had been hard to recognize the fact at the time, she knew that Harm and Mac had looked forward to having a goddaughter to spoil and after herself and Bud, Sarah's death had probably hit them the hardest. Harm and Mac had been off in a corner talking while Mic offered words of comfort to her and Bud. Abruptly, Mic had turned away from them and headed towards Harm and Mac. She'd barely thought about it at the time, living in a haze ….

…. But with the distance of time, she was able to look back upon that day and remember more than the mind-numbing grief of having buried the child she'd just spent nine months carrying inside her body. Mac had been brushing away tears and after helping her wipe them away, Harm had pulled her into a hug. Now, she realized that Mic had headed over to them just as Harm had taken Mac in his arms. They'd pulled apart as soon as they'd noticed his approach and Mic had draped an arm around Mac, pulling her to his side. It was as if …. he was marking his territory, subtly declaring 'She is mine and I'll be the one to take care of her'.

As Mic had escorted Mac away from Harm, Harriet remembered catching a snippet of their conversation. i _We were supposed to be her godparents /i _, Mac had said, keeping her voice deliberately low so as not to draw attention. i _Why shouldn't we comfort each other/i _Mic's reply had been lost to Harriet as they moved past her, but she remembered that he did not look pleased that someone else was usurping what he perceived as his place as Mac's comforter.

Would Mic make a scene at the hospital? She suddenly wasn't so sure, now that she thought about it. Mac and Mic had argued publicly before. Bud had told her about their argument in the office over a case Mic had suddenly showed up in the office to work on. Something about an F-14 crash, she seemed to recall. Mic's firm had represented some civilian contractors involved in the case. Then there was their shouting match after Mac's televised trial and that _People_ article. And she'd been back at work and had seen for herself when Mic had been ambushed with the news that Mic had started his own law firm. She'd seen, but she'd thought nothing of it. There was so much wrong that seemed so obvious now.

_i Why didn't any of us see this before_/i she wondered. She'd been Mac's matron of honor. How could she have not seen the cracks in the foundation? Well, she hadn't been around for the first two incidents. Bud had told her about both of those. The third – she'd been there, but for some reason, she'd been more concerned about finding a place to hold the engagement party rather than noticing that her best friend may have been on the verge of making a major mistake. Harm and Mac had seemed to notice so much about her and Bud's relationship. What kind of friends were they that they could not say the same in reverse?

"You're not sure, are you?" Chloe asked, startling her out of her reverie.

"Not sure about what?" she asked, shaking her head.

"You're not sure that Mic will back off," she said with an air of certainty. "Even if he knows that Mac wants to be with Harm, he may not back off."

Harriet wished she could say that Chloe was reading too much into this, but she was afraid that Chloe might be right.

-----

I-64 EAST  
SOUTHEAST OF RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

Trish started to speak, but hesitated. "Somehow," A.J. remarked, noticing her pause. "I would have thought Harm Rabb's mother would not have a problem speaking her mind."

"I'm just not sure I'll get any answers to the questions I have, Adm - A.J.," she admitted. Under other circumstances, she might have laughed at the statement. Frank had always contended that although Harm looked like his father, he had to have gotten his forthrightness from her … along with her stubbornness. Her mother-in-law had concurred, insisting that Trish had developed the stubbornness to deal with the arrogant fighter jock she'd married. "You are their commanding officer …."

Normally, A.J. would agree with her. As a CO, he was theoretically supposed to hold himself aloof from those he led, to not get too close. But many of the officers under his command had become like a family to him, especially after the way they'd keep investigating until they found out that Gayle Osborne was after him. That had been the beginning. In many ways, he was closer to them than he was to his own daughter.

"Ask," he said, a bit reluctantly. "I won't promise to answer everything, but I'll tell you what I can."

Trish hesitated again, searching for the correct phrasing. She was still conscious of the Navy's rank structure, even forty years removed from being the new wife of an ensign. Maybe it came from being a corporate wife, working to portray the right image for Frank's bosses, or from trying to schmooze investors for her gallery. Even in the civilian world, there was a hierarchy to everything. "I'm not sure where to begin," she admitted. "How do you condense nearly five years of …. missed chances and lost opportunities …. into a few sentences? I mean, I know there's so much that I don't know. For all his outspokenness, Harm can be so close-mouthed when it comes to certain things. He never even mentioned to us that his best friend was getting married."

"The boy was in denial," Sarah said firmly.

"I have seen evidence that would support that contention," A.J. said. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. If he said the right things, not much, but just enough, they would probably be able to connect the dots on their own. The apple didn't fall far from the tree and he could see so much of what had made Harm the man he was in his mother and grandmother, even in his stepfather.

"Okay, so he's in denial, Mom," Trish chided her gently. "I figured that out about two seconds after Renee introduced us to Mac's fiancé. And I can imagine why he wouldn't say anything, knowing my son. If he thought Mac wanted someone else, he would not interfere, even if it made them both miserable in the end."

"So now the question becomes," Frank interjected, "how did we go from Harm being in denial and Mac about to marry another man to her being out on a carrier in the middle of Atlantic with him the day she was supposed to marry this other man?"

A.J. could feel everyone's eyes on him, but he shook his head. "That one you'd have to ask Harm or Mac, I suppose," he said. "All I know – and this is through secondhand information – is that Mac had decided last night to call off the wedding, but had not been able to get a hold of Mic before everything happened with Harm."

Trish's eyes narrowed. "Do you know if Harm was aware that she was calling off the wedding?" she asked.

A.J. thought back to his conversation with Harriet when he'd found out about the cancelled wedding. She'd indicated that Mac had talked to someone, but no names had been mentioned. Had she talked to Harm? Had he been returning home knowing that he was going to have a chance with Mac? Or had Harriet been simply referring to herself? After all, since Harriet knew that the wedding had been cancelled, it could be assumed that she and Mac had talked about it.

"I don't know," he admitted. "The person who told me the wedding was off did not mention whether Harm knew or not." Realizing what they all must be thinking, he hastened to add, "I cannot imagine any of this getting in the way of Harm's flying. As you pointed out, Trish, if he thought it was what Mac wanted, he would not interfere and he probably would go out of his way to make sure it didn't interfere with his life. If he had regrets, he would be the only one who knew."

Trish sighed. He was right. A.J. probably knew her son as well as anyone ever did. "I know," she said. "He could be fatalistic that way. For a man so used to going after what he wants, that was one area …. Look, I'm trying not to think that this situation with Mac might have contributed to the crash, either directly or indirectly, but I'm worried about my son. If I have these questions, I would think that the people who end up investigating the crash would end up connecting the dots and start asking the same thing."

Those very thoughts had been in the back of A.J.'s mind all day and throughout the previous night. As of right now, all A.J. knew was that the inquiry wouldn't be handled by his office. That was a foregone conclusion. The thing he wasn't sure of was how Harm and Mac's relationship would play into it. It all depended on Mic and Renee and their reactions to the situation. If they wanted to, they could almost literally make life hell for Harm and Mac. He wasn't sure about Renee – he didn't really know her well enough to say what she might do. But after seeing how Mic had reacted to Mac's absence, he could not say with absolute certainty that Mic would take the high road.

"Obviously," he said, "outside investigators will be brought in on this. It will be better for Harm to avoid questions of a whitewash investigation from the beginning. Not that any of my officers would do any less than their duty, but none of them will be asked to investigate one of their own. But Harm will not be alone in this. Mac will likely be too close to the situation because of everything, but there are others in our office that would do anything to represent Harm's interests."

"Including you, A.J.?" Sarah asked.

A.J. sensed there was a subtext to the question, but wasn't quite sure what it was. After a moment, he replied with conviction, "I will be the first in line to help him."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Sarah said. "I got the feeling from Harm that he felt he'd disappointed you when he returned to flying."

If he hadn't been driving, A.J. would have turned around to face her. Sarah's question now made sense. He carefully considered his reply – he honestly had tried not to think about this since Harm had returned to JAG, considering the subject moot – then said, "I understood why he wanted to leave. I've changed careers twice in the Navy, going from the Teams to Surface Warfare and then to law school and JAG. Both times, it was my choice. But leaving an active squadron wasn't Harm's choice and I could understand why he might have felt he had unfinished business."

"But understanding and accepting are two different things," Trish said in a knowing tone.

"I would have given anything to have an office full of lawyers with as much drive and determination as your son," he said evasively. "He always gave 110 percent on all of his cases. But he was ready to throw it all away on something nearly everyone agreed would be career suicide. He disappointed a lot of people when he returned to flying."

"Like Mac?" Trish asked.

"I assume she was upset," A.J. replied, "but she never talked about it. She simply threw herself into her work and …." He trailed off, feeling himself on that slippery slope, in danger of getting too personal.

"This wouldn't have been around the time that her relationship with Mr. Brumby began, would it?" Trish asked.

"I don't know when the relationship began," he answered honestly, his resolve to say as little as possible weakening. He liked Harm's family and if he could do anything for them, even answer questions that he wasn't entirely comfortable with, he would do it. "But they did become closer friends while Harm was gone."

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it," Trish mused. "Choices have consequences and you have to wonder where we all would be tonight if Harm had made a different choice. Would all this have happened if Harm hadn't returned to flying?"

"Trish, I don't think anyone can answer that question," Frank said gently, reaching over and clasping her hand in his. "Even Harm himself probably couldn't. These quals occur on a regular basis, right?" A.J. nodded. "It was time for his quals, even if Mac was getting married, not getting married or whatever."

"Do you remember when Harm first called and told us he was reporting to Norfolk as part of an active squadron?" Trish asked him, brushing a tear from her cheek. Frank nodded, tightening his fingers around hers. "I don't think I slept for at least a week. Like you, A.J., I thought he was hurting his career and I'd never seen any indication from him that he was anything but happy at JAG. But then I'd remember what happened to my husband and I was scared. It had almost happened once before, but thank God Harm survived. But what if it happened again? And now it has …. Frank, I don't want the only thing I have left of my son to be a folded flag and a plot in Arlington."

Trying not to listen as Frank murmured words of comfort to his wife, A.J. thought back over the last two years. Frank was right in that Harm's quals occurred every six months like clockwork, but were there other contributing factors to this? A.J. didn't want to believe it. He remembered the brief ceremony when he'd presented Harm with his second DFC. Harm had not wanted a ceremony and A.J. had wondered if he'd been overcompensating, trying to convince everyone that he wanted to be back at JAG. Oh, A.J. knew Harm's work had been as good as it ever was, but …. it seemed as if his passion was somewhat lacking.

He considered a conversation he'd had earlier that afternoon with Captain Ingles when Harm's family has ostensibly been getting some sleep. Except for a wave off on his first landing attempt, he'd performed flawlessly. A.J. couldn't help but wonder if he was overcompensating again, throwing himself into his quals in an attempt to not have to deal with any pain he might be feeling. The day he'd left for Norfolk, A.J. had walked past Harm's office and had seen the younger man buried in paperwork, signing off on reports and compiling documents with an efficiency A.J. had seldom seen out of him, at least when it came to the more mundane tasks associated with his duties.

Suddenly, he caught a question from Trish which drew him back to the present and the conversation that had continued around him. "Frank, what do you think he would have done?" she wondered, her eyes gazing upward. "If Harm had known two years ago what he knows now, if he could have foreseen all that returning to an active squadron would end up costing him, do you think he would have still done it?"

Pondering the question, A.J. found he couldn't come up with an answer. He loved flying and all indications were that he loved Sarah Mackenzie. If he'd known what would happen, would he have made a different choice? A.J. shook his head, hoping that everything would work out for the two people who were closer to him than just about anyone. They both deserved it.

-----

SOMEWHERE OVER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN  
EN ROUTE TO PORTSMOUTH, VIRGINIA

Every time the helo shook – the atmosphere was still a bit unstable from the earlier storms, so it was a fairly regular occurrence – Mac couldn't help but glance fearfully at the equipment monitoring Harm's condition. The steady rise and fall of his chest was no reassurance, the ventilator pushing air in and out of his lungs. She found she couldn't concentrate on figuring out what all the numbers and blips and beeps meant, but they were pretty much the same as every other time she'd looked at them, so she kept telling herself that was a good sign. He didn't appear to be getting any worse.

A corpsman was studying the monitors with a critical eye, jotting notes in the chart which he then handed to Reed. Reed glanced over the chart and nodded, handing it back to the corpsman. His eyes met Mac's and he gave her a half-smile. "He's holding his own," he reported. "His vitals are holding steady. We're keeping his blood pressure depressed in an effort to keep the bleeding under control until he can be taken into surgery. And even though his breathing did restart on its own after the seizure, keeping him on the ventilator will ensure an uninterrupted oxygen supply."

"In case of another seizure?" she asked, her eyes steady on his.

He felt slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, as if she was trying to read his mind. Maybe it came from her being a lawyer. "That is a possibility," he said, careful to keep his tone level and worry-free. "But we've kept him on Valium since the episode to prevent that very thing."

She nodded, accepting his assurances for the time being. Leaning over Harm, propped against the bulkhead, she covered one of her hands with his. "This is different, Sailor," she said softly, trying to keep her voice light. "You're usually the one looking out for me … the mountains, when Coster was stalking me, on the _Watertown. _I know I was there for you in Russia, but sometimes I couldn't help but wonder if you really needed me. You've never been one to admit that you need anyone, have you? I can't decide if I love that strength or despise that there's always a part of yourself you keep closed off from everyone."

She reached down and ran her fingers through his hair, her gaze falling on the bruise over his left eye, her thoughts automatically going to the larger bruise on the back of his head. "I thought your helmet was supposed to prevent something like this," she murmured.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reed go very still and she lifted her gaze to his. "Doctor, how did this happen?" she asked. "How did he manage to sustain two separate blows to the head when he was wearing a helmet?"

Reed looked down at the chart in his hands, wishing that he didn't have to be the one to tell her. He'd just assumed that someone had already told her the conditions under which Harm had been found. "Doctor?" she repeated, realizing that he wasn't telling her something.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. "The Coast Guard crew that found him reported that he wasn't wearing his helmet," he explained. "We're not sure why. Obviously, no one has had a chance to question Commander Rabb about what happened. My understanding from the Captain is that if he was up to it, a preliminary interview would have been conducted by the on board JAG this evening."

"I don't understand," she said, almost to herself, her eyes falling on Harm's still form again. "He's been an aviator for fifteen years. He's even ejected before. He should know survival procedures like the back of his hand. Even I know that much." It was something Harm had drilled into her before their first ride together in a Tomcat during that case at Fallon and something he'd reviewed with her on the drive to the airfield in Russia, when everything Harm had told her ended up coming into play when they'd been shot down.

Reed shook his head. "I wish I had an answer for you, Colonel," he said. "But right now, my primary concern is making sure that he survives since we can't go back and undo what's happened."

"Of course, you're right," she said in resignation. There would be plenty of time later for questions to be answered. Dr. Reed had just reminded her of something which had completely slipped her mind. There would be an inquiry. Harm had faced one before and he would come out of this one as well. This time, he would have her at his side, standing up for him.

A few feet away, Gilly looked up from his Bible where he'd been studying the readings for next week's service, contemplating what he should say, if anything. After the tension over the Anointing, he still wasn't sure where he stood with her, although he realized it really had less to do with him than with Harm's condition.

As a Marine, he imagined that she was used to taking action, to always advancing. Sitting around, waiting on others was probably anathema to her. Finally, he closed his Bible. Sitting around silently wasn't in his nature. "Colonel …. Sarah?" he asked, hoping to put her at ease with the more familiar form of address.

She looked up, blinking. "Yes, Father?" she responded, her voice neutral.

"I have a degree in psychology," he said, earning a puzzled look from her at the apparent non-sequitor, "So after I was ordained, the first place the Navy assigned me was to a VA hospital in San Diego. I thought I had all the answers. I was young with a masters in psychology and a priest's collar. But I saw things at that hospital …. mostly Vietnam vets. Some of them I don't think ever really recovered from the war."

She started to speak, but he held up his hand to stop her, then continued, "I didn't know how to help these people, so I spent a lot of time when I first got there simply observing. Quickly, I realized something. The ones who did the best are those who had someone there, whether talking to them or just holding their hand. Sometimes it was their spouse, sometimes it was an old war buddy, and sometimes it was a complete stranger, one of the hospital volunteers. Some of these men were catatonic, some were in comas. I'd always heard that even unconscious, a patient could hear everything going on around them, but I'd never seen empirical evidence to support it until then. So I started sitting with the patients who didn't have anyone. Sometimes, I talked about little more than the box score from the previous night's Padres game. But I'd like to think it made a difference."

"And your point?" she asked, mildly surprising him by the lack of harshness in her tone. Maybe he could do something to ease her mind.

"I just heard you telling Harm about how he's been there for you," he explained, "and how you're not sure he really needs you. I know that you're frustrated right now, but there is something you can do for him. Talk to him – talk about things you've shared in the past, talk about your hope for the future. Let him hear your voice. Give him something to hold on to."

She hesitated as she pondered what he'd just said, then looked down at Harm again, smiling gently as a memory floated to the forefront of her thoughts. "Do you remember the day AJ was born?" she asked, closing her eyes as the memories washed over her. She could see him standing on the steps with him, looking so strong and vital in his summer whites, so devastatingly handsome with a familiar grin gracing his features. "It was one of the most amazing experiences, watching that little boy come into this world. And talking about our child, what he or she would be like …. So many times since that day, I've thought about what a child of ours would be like. I kept going back and forth, unable to decide if I wanted a boy or a girl. I'd imagine a little boy, with your eyes and your smile, but then I'd wonder what it would be like to have a little girl. I can already see her as daddy's little girl. I think deep inside you're just a big marshmallow and any daughter of ours would have you wrapped around her little finger." She managed a laugh, imagining Harmon Rabb with a daughter. She'd be her father's princess.

Gilly smiled as he listened to her. "Sounds like you and Harm have thought about the future a good deal," he commented. "How long have you been together?"

Mac tightened her fingers around Harm's, the only visible sign that she was troubled by his question. She couldn't exactly explain that they'd been together for little longer than they'd been married. But for them, togetherness was a concept with so many connotations and she latched onto that for an explanation. "Sometimes it feels like forever," she said wistfully. "We've worked together for nearly five years, except for the six months he was here on the _Henry_. We've been as close as two people can be in so many ways. I wouldn't be surprised if we know more about each other than even our families or other people we've been involved with. It all blurs together, but I honestly think I've loved him almost from the moment I met him."

"Then have faith in that love," he advised, "and believe that will get Harm through this so that you can have that family you've talked about."

Her eyes fell on her hand covering his, her wedding band sparkling on her finger even in the dim light inside the helo. She wished it could be that simple. She knew that in a few hours she would be in Portsmouth, waiting for Harm to come out of surgery as everyone else arrived. Mic would probably be there, expecting her to show up there and she had to be ready to give answers that she wasn't sure she could and which she was sure that Mic would not want to hear.

-----

To be continued….


	3. Chapter 3

PORTSMOUTH NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

Later, when asked, Mac would have little memory of their arrival at the huge medical complex in Portsmouth. She was vaguely aware of Harm being swiftly offloaded from the SH-60B Seahawkhelicopter into a waiting ambulance to take him across the parking lot to the main building of the hospital, the Charette Health Care Center, while she, Doctor Reed and Father Gilly all squeezed into the ambulance on one side of Harm's gurney, an EMT on the other side monitoring Harm's vitals as he studied the notes made by the corpsmen and Doctor Reed aboard the helo.

The thing that stood out in her mind was the same thing which had stuck during the flight from the ship – Harm's hand under hers, cold and limp and unmoving. For some reason, she'd always associated him with warmth – his smile, his personality. He could light up a room just by walking into it. And as she'd discovered just a few nights earlier, snuggling up next to him in bed was better than a warm blanket and flannel pajamas. Even as she'd still been torn between the man she loved and the man she'd promised to marry, she hadn't been able to stop herself from thinking that one of the best feelings in the world had to be burrowing in Harm's embrace, letting the heat radiating off of him envelope her.

Feeling Harm's chilled fingers beneath hers wasn't right. This was not Harm. When she'd commented on it shortly after takeoff from the Henry, Doctor Reed had rattled off a medical explanation of why Harm's temperature, which had been slowly but steadily climbing upward throughout the day, had dropped slightly after his seizure. She didn't care about technical reasons – she just wanted to feel the warmth of his touch again.

Time had ceased to exist for Mac the moment the alarms had first blared in sickbay back on the i _Henry /i _. One moment seemed to stretch into the next and when she glanced at her watch at the helo set down on the pad across the parking lot from the hospital, she was surprised at how little time had passed since her world had come to a halt. All she could say with certainty was that it seemed an eternity had passed since the helo had lifted off the deck of the carrier, then between the time the ambulance departed the helipad and when it pulled up outside the emergency entrance.

The EMTs efficiently removed Harm from the ambulance and escorted him inside, Reed following as Gilly put a hand on Mac's arm to hold her out of the way of the people trying to do their jobs. Doctor Stafford was waiting inside the bay doors and huddled with Reed as soon as he walked through the door. Once the ambulance was clear, Gilly helped Mac down from the vehicle and led her inside, a guiding hand at her elbow. She instinctively moved to follow Harm, but stopped when Doctor Stafford called out, "Colonel Rabb?"

It took Mac a moment to recognize that it was her name being called. i _I guess that's something else about married life to adjust to /i ,_ she thought. It felt strange answering to a name that wasn't the one she'd used for the last thirty-three years. On second thought, it seemed to her to be such an inconsequential thing to be thinking about at a time such as this one. "Doctor Stafford?" she returned, recognizing the neurosurgeon from the satellite call earlier that evening.

"I've just been speaking to Doctor Reed," he said, gesturing a woman forward who standing nearby carrying a clipboard. "Your husband seems to have held his own during the flight, not much change in his condition, so we are going to take the time to do another CT-scan to get an idea of the current size of the mass before we operate. After the scan, either Doctor Reed or I will come brief you on the plans for surgery. Right now, Petty Officer Ryan from our administration department needs to get some information on your husband so he can be admitted."

Mac turned and stared down the hallway Harm had been taken down, a look of longing on her face. She was barely aware of the hand Gilly placed on her shoulder or of his softly-spoken, "Sarah, it's in the doctors' hands now. The doctors' and God's. The best thing you can do for Harm right now is give the hospital all the information you can so that they can help him."

It took a long moment for his words to sink in before she nodded slowly. "Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Okay."

"Do you have your husband's ID card, ma'am?" Ryan asked, her tone respectful as she made note of Mac's insignia. "Having that will ease the admittance procedures."

"Um …" Mac hesitated, at a loss. At some point, one of the corpsmen had given her a small bag with the few things Harm had on his person at the time he was fished out of the water and she could not remember if his wallet had been one of the items. She pulled forward one of the bags slung over her shoulder and quickly searched through it, pulling out the clear plastic bag. His Academy ring was there, as was his watch, amazingly still running she noticed, despite the trauma. His dog tags had been in the bag as well, but Mac had earlier taken them out and hung them around her neck, the cool metal nestled against her heart. No wallet obviously, but there was a rectangle of white in a plastic sleeve. _A picture?_ she wondered. She pulled the item from the bag, drawing in a sharp breath when she turned it over to discover a wallet-sized version of the christening photo that Chloe had been so enamored of. How long had he carried this photo with him? She vaguely remembered Bud and Harriet mailing copies of all the photos that had been taken that day to Harm while he'd been stationed on the _Henry_ two years earlier. Had he carried this photo all this time?

"Ma'am?" Ryan asked, interrupting her thoughts. Clutching the photo in her hand, she dropped the baggie back into the travel bag and zipped it back up.

"No," Mac said softly. "His wallet's not here. It must have gone down …."

"That's okay, ma'am," Ryan said. "We can work around that. If you'd like to accompany me to the admissions office, we'll do what we can then someone will escort you to the waiting area outside of the OR."

Mac nodded. As Ryan led them in the opposite direction from the one Harm had been taken, Mac had to remind herself how to walk, to put one foot in front of the other. She could feel the exhaustion and frustration starting to creep up on her, tendrils beginning to wrap around her, threatening to squeeze the breath out of her. But she refused to give in. So often, Harm had been the strong one in their relationship, except when it had come to his father. She'd supported him then. She could do it again.

-----

"Spell your last name, ma'am," Ryan said, her fingers poised over the keyboard of her computer. Gilly was seated on the other side of the desk. Mac had set her and Harm's travel bags in the seat offered to her and was standing at the window, her back to the others. There was nothing to see in the darkness, but it was easier than being forced to deal with her pain through the sympathetic looks from others.

"M – A – C," she began, stopping herself as she realized that wasn't what Ryan was asking for. "Sorry. R – A – B – B."

"That's okay, ma'am," Ryan replied as she typed in the information. "Your husband's social security number?"

"Five – oh – eight, um, nine, um …." She trailed off, uncertain. She knew this. Harm had been in the hospital since she'd known him and she'd made it a point of memorizing his social, just as he'd done hers. "I can't remember. I know this but I can't remember." She rested her head against the cool glass pane of the window, her fingernails digging into her palm as she clenched one hand into a fist.

"Sarah?" She heard the voice, but it seemed so far away. _Harm_? she wondered. Then she heard the voice again, close this time. _No, not Harm_, she realized. _Just wishful thinking. _She saw Gilly's reflection in the window, saw rather than felt his hand on her shoulder. She turned slowly, blinking back tears. He held a handkerchief out to her, which she took without comment, dabbing at her eyes. She started to hand it back, but he shook his head, motioning for her to keep it. "You have Harm's dog tags, don't you? I would have thought they would have been with the things sickbay gave you."

A startled look on her face, she tugged at the chain around her neck and pulled out the tags, spreading them out on her palm. It was funny how the mind worked sometimes. Just a few minutes ago, she'd been thinking about his tags. i _Come on, Mac /i _, she admonished herself. i _Harm needs you to be strong /i _. "Five – oh – eight – nine – five – nine – three – three – four," she read the number off the tags.

Ryan frowned as Harm's information came up in the DEERS database. "Ma'am, there aren't any dependents listed for Commander Rabb," she said. "Not that I don't believe that you're married, but for consent forms and such …"

"We just got married," Mac interrupted. "But that shouldn't matter. I've held Harm's medical proxy for years. That should be a part of his records."

"Hard copies of his records are being sent from Bethesda, but they haven't arrived yet, ma'am," she said. "And for some reason, the electronic copy doesn't include the proxy."

"What about the marriage certificate?" Gilly asked. "Or would the word of the priest who performed the ceremony be sufficient?"

Ryan lifted her eyebrow. She noted the Chaplains' Corp insignia on his collar and assumed he was referring to himself. "Something in writing is required, sir," she replied, "for legal reasons. I'm sure you can understand."

Mac nodded as she turned and walked over, rifling through the bags until she found the folder she'd placed the marriage certificate in for safekeeping. She held it out. "I assume this will be sufficient?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Ryan replied as she studied the certificate, surprise showing on her face when she read the date on it. Remembering that the patient's wife was a Marine Lieutenant Colonel, she swallowed the obvious question and focused on her computer screen. "Date of birth?"

"25 October 1963," Mac replied, more quickly this time, her voice steadier. The faster she got this done, the sooner she could go … well, she couldn't be with Harm, but she could be nearby. She needed to be near him.

-----

"Not the most comfortable place," Gilly commented as he surveyed the waiting room down the hall from the operating room where the neurosurgeon would soon be working to save Harm's life. "But the nurse at the desk did say something about blankets and pillows." He opened a door on one side of the room and found a storage closet, pulling out bedding for both himself and Mac. "At least you can try to get some sleep after you talk to the doctor. Harm will probably be in surgery for hours."

"I don't think I can sleep," she murmured as Gilly handed her a pillow and blanket, the exhaustion around her eyes betraying her.

"Why don't you just lie down then?" he suggested, spreading a blanket out on one of the couches for himself. "It's been what – about twenty-four hours – since you first got the call about Harm's accident? You might surprise yourself."

Reluctantly, she nodded. It was so easy to listen to him and do as he suggested. He had such a calm, soothing voice. She spread out her blanket on another couch and sat down on top of it, making no move to get beneath the covers. "Maybe I should get changed," she said, almost to herself.

"I think I saw restrooms near the elevators," Gilly told her.

"Okay," she said, gathering up one of the bags she had with her. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

As he watched her go, he reflected on the pain he saw veiled in her eyes. She was upset – understandably so – about what had happened to Harm. She seemed to be handling that as well as could be expected at the moment. He was sure that, as a Marine, she was used to bottling up her emotions so that they did not interfere with her duty. That was true of most military. He knew that eventually those feelings would need to be given release, although he would lay odds that she would wait until she was alone. She struck him as a woman who wouldn't let herself cry in front of others if she could help it.

But there was something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He'd learned to be a pretty good judge of character and he sensed that there was something weighing on her mind besides her husband's injuries. He wished he could get a sense of what it was so that he could figure out how to help. He knew, from the experience on the _Henry_, that Mac was not a woman to be pushed. If he tried too hard to get her to open up about what was bothering her, she would just shut down even further. Maybe it could be as simple as worrying about what all their friends and family would say about the hasty marriage. It was amazing what people would worry about when under extreme stress. Simple problems could be blown up in a person's mind to seem like insurmountable peaks as a defense mechanism, something to worry about besides what was really wrong.

Mac returned a few moments later, looking vulnerable and lost in too-large clothes – obviously Harm's. Sweatpants were rolled up several times at the bottom so they didn't drag on the floor, a US Navy sweatshirt hung to mid-thigh. She noticed his scrutiny and gestured weakly to the clothes she was wearing. "I didn't really pack anything suitable for me to sleep in," she explained. Of course, she'd expected to have privacy for sleeping – perhaps a cabin on the _Henry_ tonight and a room at the VOQ until Harm was released to go home – where it wouldn't matter if she wore the silk and lace confection she'd brought with her. But that had been before everything had turned upside down.

She settled onto the couch, slipping under the blanket and pulling it up under her chin. There was a bit of a chill – a cold front had descended in the aftermath of the storm, causing the temperature to drop well below seasonable levels. She stared at the far wall, not quite ready to close her eyes. "Father?" she asked after a long moment, during which the only sounds in the room was Gilly turning the pages of his Bible as he indulged in his usual ritual and his soft humming. Reading it was always the first thing he did in the morning and the last thing he did at night. It was his time to enjoy the words rather than studying them so he could figure out how to explain them in everyday language in his sermons.

"Yes, Sarah," he said, lifting his head as he closed the Bible, marking his place with his finger.

She hesitated a moment, then said softly, "Thank you."

Gilly was touched. Another sense he had was that this was a woman who did not utter those words easily. "You're welcome," he simply replied.

"It's been … nice to have someone there for me," she continued, surprising them both. "I haven't had that a lot in my life …. I could probably count on one hand, Harm included in that, of course."

"Family?" he asked, curious.

"I have a sister," she replied, "but she just turned fourteen. My uncle's in Leavenworth." She could feel his look of surprise and lifted her head, craning her neck to look at him. "Remind me later to tell you how Harm and I met – it all ties in together. Harm was his defense attorney. Anyway, my father died two years ago and my mother …. well, I've only seen her once in the last nineteen years and that was when my father died."

"But you do have a family," he pointed out. "I understand from Doctor Reed that you spoke to your in-laws after Harm's condition got worse. I'm sure they will be there for you."

Mac almost laughed. It was one thing to admit to Trish that she was in love with Harm. It was another for everyone to find out the entire story. What kind of woman, on the same day she was to marry one man, would turn around and marry a different man? Plus, Renee was a known quantity to them – to Trish, anyway – and she couldn't say for sure how they would feel about a woman about they'd never even met marrying Harm while his girlfriend wasn't even aware that Harm was lost to her. To a lot of people, Renee would seem to be the more sympathetic character in this entire drama.

"What was that you were humming earlier?" she asked, dropping the previous subject like a hot potato. She couldn't get into that now. She still had to prepare herself to deal with everything that would happen when everyone else arrived.

"'On Eagle's Wings'," he replied. "Often while I'm working, I'll hum – or even sing, if I'm in the mood – something, often a song that matches my mood. And not necessarily hymns. I've been known to sing John Lennon on occasion."

"The name of the song sounds familiar," she said, realizing that it was likely a hymn and that she must seem woefully ignorant for someone who had been preparing to get married in the Church.

Instead, he simply assumed that she was too distracted to recognize the hymn. "Actually," he explained, "it's based on the Psalm that was read at the service …." He glanced at his watch. Was it still Saturday or had they passed into Sunday already? "…. this morning." He started to sing the words in a prayerful tenor.

Mac smiled as she finally closed her eyes, dropping her head back onto her pillow. "I remember now," she said wistfully. "Father Genaro had someone sing that song at my father's funeral. At the time, I thought it reminded me of Harm. He was the one who had talked me into going to see my father and he would have been at the funeral too if I hadn't waited until after the fact to tell him."

"Why did you wait to tell him?" he asked, curious.

"I'm not sure anymore," she replied, stifling a yawn. "I guess I don't like having to depend on people, even Harm. If you don't depend on them, there's less chance for them to hurt you."

Gilly was saddened to think about what had to have happened in her life for her to develop that kind of attitude. She'd given hints – only seeing her mother once in so many years, having to be talked into being at her father's side when he died. This was a woman, he realized, who had been deeply hurt by the very people she should have been able to depend on the most. It made her heartfelt 'thank you' all the more touching.

-----

_"What the ….?" Mac threw her arms out to steady herself as the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. She looked down, staring wide-eyed at the wooden planks beneath her sock-encased feet. Planks? She looked up, glancing around. She was wearing the same sweats she'd fallen asleep in, but that was the only thing that seemed familiar. She was outdoors, apparently on the deck of a wooden ship. Her hair was blowing in her face and she impatiently pushed it away, trying to tuck it behind her ears. Where was she? As far as she could remember, she'd never been on a ship like this before. And this wasn't a ship tied up at dock. The shifting she'd felt was the ship rolling with the waves. The ship was out at sea._

_Slowly, she started to make her way forward – at least, she thought she was heading towards the bow of the ship as she judged herself to be near the stern – gripping the railing for support, trying to keep herself steady on the pitching deck. The salty spray of the ocean stung her eyes and she found herself stumbling, her arm nearly being wretched from its socket as she clung to the rail in an attempt to break her fall._

_Suddenly, she remembered and fought her way back to her feet, ignoring the rain which suddenly appeared out of nowhere, soaking her, and the wind threatening to topple her back to the deck. She had to warn him. Fighting her way forward, she saw a familiar scene unfolding before her – three men lined up to be hung, Harm's familiar features about to be covered by a hood. "No!" she screamed, fighting her way to the front of the crowd of sailors gathered around, watching events unfold in front of her, the stools being kicked out from under the feet of the three men. She blinked and suddenly, Harm was the only man there, wearing his flight suit instead of the uniform of a nineteenth-century sailor, his fingers clawing at the rope around his neck. Magically, the rope loosened and he worked his way out of it, falling to the deck, hitting his head on the discarded stool with a sickening thud._

_She finally made her way to him, lifting his head to cradle it in her lap. "It's okay, Harm," she whispered, bending down so that he could hear her over the storm. She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. "I'll take care of you."_

_She felt him being pulled out of her arms and she tried to wrap her arms around him, desperate to hold on, but he slipped from her grasp. She tried to climb to her feet to follow him, but a pair of arms encircled her waist, holding her back._

"_It's okay, Sarah," a voice said from behind her. "I know you're upset, but it's not your problem to deal with. He'll be just fine, luv. He has Renee to take care of him."_

_She looked towards Harm to find him now in Renee's arms, looking out of place on the deck of the ship. She'd unzipped his flight suit, her hands slipping under his t-shirt to stroke his torso. Renee lifted her head and smiled, her eyes bright in triumph._

"_He's my husband," Mac protested, struggling to pull free from Mic's embrace. But he pulled her back against him, his strong arms imprisoning her._

"_Do you really think either of us will give up that easily?" he asked, his soft tone sending a shiver through her …. _

-----

"No!" she cried out, her entire body trembling. Gilly jumped up from his couch and knelt by her side, firmly shaking her shoulder.

"Sarah, wake up," he said, his tone firm. "It's just a dream."

Her eyes snapped open, the trembling subsiding as she gradually became aware of her surroundings. She pushed herself up on one elbow, pushing sweat-matted hair back from her face as she gasped for breath. Lowering her hand, she glanced at her watch. Had she really been asleep that long? She tried to remember what time Doctor Reed had stopped by to inform them that Harm was being wheeled into surgery. It had been a few hours, at least. That meant everyone would probably start arriving from Washington soon.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Not really," she whispered, sitting up and wrapping her arms around herself.

"You're shivering," he said. "Let me get you another blanket." He went to the closet and got another blanket, draping it over her shoulders.

She grabbed the edges of the blanket and pulled them together in front of her, cocooning her. But she still felt so cold. "Harm told me that the chute lines had gotten tangled around his neck. I saw him being strangled in my dream. Then I saw the aftermath and it scared me …." She trailed off, unable to talk about the rest of the dream. He wouldn't understand.

"Sarah, you don't know what's going to happen," he said, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder. "No one does. I'm sure Harm will have some recovery time ahead of him …."

"No," she protested, shaking her head firmly. "I'm sure that I know what's going to happen."

Gilly opened his mouth, about to ask what that meant when a nurse appeared in the doorway. "Is there news from surgery?" Mac asked shakily.

"Just that everything is going well so far," the nurse reported. "Word from the OR is that they about at the halfway point. As long as there are no complications, they should be finished up in a few hours. After some time in recovery, Commander Rabb will be moved to ICU and then you'll be able to see him."

Mac looked away, still trying to steady herself after her disturbing dream. Realizing she wasn't going to say anything, Gilly thanked the nurse for the information. "See, Sarah?" he asked after the nurse left the room. "Everything is okay so far. Harm's a strong man and he's got a strong woman supporting him. Why don't you try to go back to sleep?"

"I don't think I could," she said in frustration. "If I close my eyes …."

"Why don't I get you something to eat?" he suggested, deciding not to push the issue. "There's a cafeteria downstairs or vending machines all over the place. You probably haven't really eaten since you heard the news, either."

"Sure," she replied dully. She just wanted to be alone right now and taking him up on his offer seemed to be the easiest way to ensure that. Otherwise, he might try to get her to talk about her dream and she couldn't deal with that now. She wasn't sure she could deal with it when it would eventually come to pass. "Something to eat would be nice."

"Okay," he said, mildly surprised at her easy acquiescence. He'd expected her to protest that she wasn't hungry. "Anything in particular you want?"

"It doesn't matter," she whispered dismissively, pulling her knees up to her chest, resting her head on top of them.

-----

To be continued….


	4. Chapter 4

A single drop of water slid down the window pane, barely illuminated by the lights from the parking lot outside. It started out at a fairly rapid clip, and then slowed as it intersected with another drop making its own way down the glass. Then it continued on its way, slower this time, before splitting in two suddenly, perhaps due to an imperfection in the glass. One slide off at an improbable angle towards the corner of the window, disappearing from her field of vision. The other continued its downward journey, more or less in a straight line, finally splattering on the window sill. At the top of the pane, another raindrop began its jagged journey down, following the path of the first about a third of the way down before suddenly veering off on a path of its own.

What had they called it in _Jurassic Park_? That's right – chaos theory. Mac could relate. Just hours ago, hadn't she and Harm said how everything was going to happen. Everything would be nice and neat and orderly – at least as much as possible given the admittedly unusual circumstances. But how could they have known about the circumstance lurking in the background, just beyond their sight, which would so dramatically alter the outcome. For a brief moment in time, everything seemed to be going as right as it ever had in her life. But appearances were deceiving and the reality of her orderly existence was fleeting.

The hospital staff seemed to think everything would be alright. Shortly after Father Gilly left on his cafeteria run, another nurse had poked her head through the door. An older woman with a motherly look about her – at least what Mac imagined someone's mother should look like – had gently asked if she needed anything and sought to reassure her by talking about how good the surgical team was that was working just down the hall to save Harm's life. She made non-committal noises which must have sounded like agreement to the nurse, since she did leave Mac alone with her thoughts.

But if tonight had taught her anything, it was the futility in making plans and predictions. She thought she had her life planned out with Mic, had convinced herself that any feelings she might have had for Harm beyond friendship were something of the past. But then a stolen night in Norfolk – no, it had actually begun two weeks earlier, when a stolen kiss under the stars had broken open a lock to which she'd thrown away the key.

In the space of just over twenty four hours, she'd moved from one certain truth – that she would become Mrs. Mic Brumby – to another – that she was now Mrs. Harmon Rabb, Jr. Then she'd moved from the reality of the new life she and Harm were going to build together once their other relationships were straightened out to not even knowing whether or not Harm was going to survive the next few hours. She wanted to believe it. She needed to believe that he would survive and they would have their happily ever after. She just wasn't sure if she could afford to believe only to have it all shattered once again.

She felt their presence before she noticed their blurry reflections in the window, could feel their eyes upon her. How could they not stare? She gripped the edges of Harm's jacket, pulled it tighter around her to ward off the chill. She and Harm had often joked about her someday meeting his family – the timing just never seemed to work out before. When they were in California on a case, Trish and Frank were traveling somewhere else. When Trish and Frank happened to pass through DC, it would be Harm and Mac who were traveling.

And Harm's grandmother – that was another story. Harm had invited her on more than one occasion, but something always seemed to come up which allowed Mac to bow out without sounding like she was making excuses. She'd been apprehensive about meeting the woman Harm held in such high esteem. Not because she thought the older woman might dislike her – although she did wonder how much Harm had really told his grandmother about her – but it seemed so intimate a gesture, even more so than meeting his parents. From talking to Harm, he seemed to be closer to his grandmother than to his parents – perhaps because she'd for so long been his only blood link to his beloved father – and she sensed that it would be Sarah Rabb to whom he would look for approval of the woman he would marry.

Slowly, she exhaled the breath she'd been holding since she first felt their presence, taking a few precious ticks of the clock to prepare to face them. As steady as she could force herself to be, she turned to face them, focusing her gaze on A.J.. Even under the circumstances, it was force of habit to give her commanding officer her attention. Or was it something else, a concern about facing Harm's family? She pushed the question aside and made herself open her mouth. "Hello, Admiral," she said simply, her tone aching with fatigue. "Mr. and Mrs. Burnett, Mrs. Rabb."

A.J. was stunned at her appearance and not just because of the inexplicable bruise nearly darkened to a blackish purple under her eye. He'd seen Mac run the spectrum of emotions, but he couldn't remember seeing her look so …. lost, so uncertain. Not after Dalton had died in her arms, not even after Harm had walked out of her life two years ago. Lines were etched around her eyes, born of lack of sleep and worry, while she looked small and vulnerable with Harm's too-large jacket pulled around her, the cuffs falling down over her hands, her fingers barely peaking out, her knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the sleeves.

He noted the formality with which she addressed him, but he swallowed back his automatic response. She didn't need Admiral Chegwidden, who would eventually have to deal with issues resulting from the turmoil of the past day. There would be time to confront all of that later. Maybe when he wasn't so worried himself about the man fighting for his life. Right now, she needed A.J., who had to set aside regulation to be a friend when she needed one, especially with her former fiancé on his way, unaware that his place in her life was now a thing of the past. "Mac, why don't we all sit down?" he suggested, gesturing towards the couches. "I'm sure the Commander … Harm's family would like to hear any news that you have regarding his condition."

She stared at him a moment, her brain slow to process what he was saying, before she nodded and returned to her place on the couch, folding her legs under her, wrapping her arms around herself. Concerned about her bearing, but chalking it up to the stress and strain she'd been under, everyone else was silent as they took seats. A.J. sat on the couch Father Gilly had previously occupied, at the end closest to Mac. Trish and Frank sat next to him, their hands tightly clasped in a large knot between them.

Sarah chose to sit next to Mac, keeping a respectful distance between them. From what Harm had told her, she figured that Mac was not one who easily let people get close. She hovered just outside Mac's personal space, without appearing to do so, but ready with a comforting embrace should the situation warrant it.

Mac shivered involuntarily as she tried to make the words come out of her mouth. What was she supposed to say to these people? They'd never even met, but now they were family. They shared a common bond in their love for the man clinging to life, but they couldn't be more different. Trish and Frank, despite the thinly veiled pain etched in their features, exuded a calm that Mac could only hope to feel. But then they'd been down this road before – another crash, another hospital, but the same story. The words had changed but the tune was still the same.

A.J., well he was as inscrutable as ever. He was hard to read, even outside their normal roles of commander and subordinate.

Sarah – now she was a bit of a surprise. Perhaps it was the way Harm had always talked about her, and what Mac had read between the lines, but she'd expected someone larger than life. Who else could command the ultimate respect of an arrogant flyboy? Physically, she was small. Next to her grandson, she probably didn't even reach his shoulder and she looked like she might blow away in a strong wind. But there was steel in her bearing, born of eighty-odd years of overcoming tragedy and heartache. Mac desperately wished for some of that strength for herself. The woman next to her had survived the loss of both husband and only child and had faced the possibility of losing both her grandsons at various times. She wondered how Sarah to persevere through all that when she couldn't even figure out how she would go on without Harm if she had to.

"Would you like a blanket, dear?" Sarah asked, pulling free the one she was sitting on and holding it out. Mac nodded and let Sarah drape it over her and tuck it around her. For a moment, Mac flashed back on a rare childhood memory of her own grandmother. Her mother had spent a night in the hospital – courtesy of her father, as usual – and Joe had dropped her at her grandparents' doorstep while he spent the night drinking himself into oblivion, full of remorse after the fact for what he'd done to his wife. She'd woken up in the middle of the night, violently shaking from dreams of what had transpired, and her grandmother had tenderly tucked her back into bed, hovering on the edge of the bed until she eventually drifted off.

"Thank you, Mrs. Rabb," she heard herself say. So her vocal cords still did work. She could do this. Staring down at her lap as she gathered her thoughts, she began haltingly with the most recent news, "Not long ago, someone came here – a nurse, I guess – and said that the surgery appears to be going well and it's about half over."

"Thank God," Trish breathed as Frank squeezed her hands, his eyes alight with thankfulness. Her gaze turned to Mac and she felt a wave of sympathy. She remembered the waiting, the utter helplessness, the fear of not knowing. It was this common bond which had her debating over asking the question foremost in her mind. But the driving need to know what had happened to her little boy won out. "What happened to my son, Mac? Everything seemed to be okay, then …."

Her gaze was still downcast as she continued, "It was just before dinner. We had been talking about …. we were just talking and he just …. I thought he'd fallen asleep. He'd been out in the water all night, unable to sleep, unable to rest and I thought he was just tired." She looked up, her eyes wide as she remembered the horror of those few brief moments which had seemed to stretch into infinity. "I just thought he was just tired."

"Did he slip into a coma?" Sarah asked softly, trying to draw her out. "Is that why they started to suspect ….?"

"Not yet," she murmured. "I mean, the doctor didn't say anything about a coma. I don't know. He didn't regain consciousness, but they were keeping him drugged because …. because of the seizure."

A.J. suddenly understood. "Is that how that happened?" he asked, gesturing towards her face.

She nodded. "I didn't know what to do," she said hoarsely. Tears threatened again and she took a few seconds to force them back before continuing. "He started shaking and I yelled for help. When Doctor Reed came in, I think he tried to tell me not to try to hold him down. Then he shook me free and I fell against a cabinet or something …. after it was over, the doctor was requesting a satellite hook up with a neurosurgeon and they said he had to come here …."

As her voice trailed off, Sarah slowly reached over and, when Mac didn't pull away, clasped one of Mac's hands in hers. "I imagine it's hard considering what you've seen today," she said, her tone so gentle and comforting that Mac responded without consciously thinking about it, curling her fingers around Sarah's, "but you've known Harm long enough to know that he is a survivor. He told me how you were there for him in Russia the first time, how he wasn't sure what he would have done if you hadn't been there to steady him. Did Harm ever tell you about his crash ten years ago?"

Mac shook her head. "Occasionally, he'd drop a comment here or there," she replied, "but most of what I know is through …. scuttlebutt."

"By the time we got to Germany," Sarah remembered, "nearly a full day had passed since the accident. After being flown in from the carrier, he spent the better part of that day in surgery. He had internal injuries, had to have pins put in his hip and one ankle, and his collarbone was broken – and that's just the major injuries. They told us that he'd ejected out over the deck and wasn't able to get enough height for his chute to open fully and slow his descent. They went out of their way not to tell us, but we all saw it in their eyes. They were surprised he'd even survived." She glanced at Trish, who nodded in understanding of the silent message and continued the story.

"As his mother, I've seen Harm sick," Trish said, her barely detectable tremor in her voice the only sign of the lingering pain of that long ago day, "and I've seen him with various injuries you expect of an active boy growing up. But I'd never imagined …. You could barely tell he was there; he was wrapped in so many bandages and plaster and he had all these tubes and wires attached. I wanted to believe that my baby was going to survive, but looking at him lying there so bruised and broken, there was this tiny voice in the back of my mind that kept insisting there was no way. But eventually he opened his eyes. Then the tube in his throat was taken out. I think that's when I knew he was going to make it, when he told me in a voice just barely above a whisper not to cry."

Mac almost had to laugh at that. That one statement sounded so much like Harm. He would have been worried less about his own condition than with the pain he was causing those around him – until his mind cleared and his thoughts turned to the one who hadn't survived the crash. Knowing Harm, she could understand why that simple request had convinced Trish that her son was going to make it.

"Harm's always seemed …." Mac trailed off, unable to think of the words to adequately describe it. How could such a complex and charismatic personality be distilled into a few syllables? "Larger than life, I guess. If I didn't know him, I wouldn't think a person like him could exist."

"But then something reminds you that he's human," Frank concluded sadly.

"Yeah," she replied a bit hesitantly. Had she really said that in front of Harm's family and her commanding officer? She almost sounded like some kind of groupie. Maybe the lack of sleep and the worry over Harm was catching up with her. She didn't normally talk like that. Covering her mouth with her free hand, she stifled a yawn, and then pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing at the corners of her eyes.

Trish and Frank were the first to see it, although neither of them realized the importance of what they were seeing. They knew Mac had been engaged and just assumed she hadn't taken the ring off yet. It didn't process in their minds that the ring she was wearing didn't have the diamond typical of an engagement ring.

A.J. was about to suggest that Mac try to get some sleep, since the surgery would last several more hours at least, when he saw it. Immediately, he clamped his mouth closed, unable to believe what he was seeing. He knew it wasn't her engagement ring from Mic. He knew what that ring looked like. Hadn't he been the first to notice it at the airport in Sydney? He squinted, trying to get a closer look without appearing to do so. It almost looked like …. as she dropped her hand, he focused on her eyes, but they were unfocused, staring ahead at some distant point. She didn't even seem to be aware of his scrutiny.

"You're tired, dear," Sarah said gently, squeezing Mac's hand. "Admiral, we should let Mac try to get some sleep. Any further questions can wait until later." When A.J. didn't reply, Sarah glanced at him, following his gaze towards Mac, but she couldn't see what he was staring at. "Admiral?"

A.J. shook himself out of his reverie at her insistent tone. Now wasn't the time for questions, especially ones that he wasn't sure he really wanted the answers to. Anyway, maybe he was wrong. Maybe it didn't mean anything. "Mac?" he said firmly, finally drawing her notice. She turned to him, blinking her eyes rapidly as if to clear them. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

"I'm not sure I could …." she began, trailing off when the door to the waiting room opened.

-----

As Mic pulled into a parking spot across the driveway from the emergency entrance, the only one in the hospital open this late at night, he glanced around, his eyes searching for the familiar red Corvette. "Damn," he swore under his breath when he didn't see it, the only car he recognized being the Admiral's SUV. He'd wanted to talk to Mac as soon as he saw her, hopefully convince her to came home with him and let Renee worry about Harm's condition.

His soft exclamation caught his companion's attention. "Did you say something?" Renee asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Sometime after they'd passed Richmond, she'd managed to fall into a fitful sleep, tormented by dreams of a flag-draped coffin. She'd woken up at one point, but one look at Mic, his jaw clenched and his knuckles white as his hands gripped the steering wheel, and she decided not to bother him. Although Mic wasn't a heartless bastard, she also wasn't under any illusions about how concerned he was about Harm's condition, outside of how it concerned Mac. He'd been so nice to her, probably nicer than he needed to be and she sensed that she needed all the allies she could get into her corner.

The JAG staff wasn't about to fall all over themselves showing concern for her state of mind. She was tolerated, and just barely she sensed, only because she was Harm's girlfriend. No, it was Mac they were going to rally around, forming a protective shield around her while Renee was left on the outside. She did get along with Trish, but she expected little from that quarter. Frank and Sarah had seemed standoffish with her and when it came down to it, Trish was going to stick with her family.

"Nothing important," Mic replied, unbuckling his seat belt. It wasn't important to Renee, he knew. "Let's get inside. I'm sure you're anxious to find out how Rabb is doing."

Mic," Renee said, her hand on his arm, stopping him as he started to get out of the car. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"No worries," he said, shrugging. "I hope for your sake that Rabb will be okay." He didn't add, nor did he have to, that it was as much for his sake as for hers. It had been hard enough to compete with Harm. He wasn't sure how he would fare against the specter of his memory.

They were silent as they walked into the hospital together, Renee's apprehension growing as each step took her closer to Harm. She didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't stop the questions. What if he didn't make it? A.J. had not said much when he called to inform her that Harm was being transferred to Portsmouth that night instead of waiting until morning. She knew next to nothing about medical matters, but she couldn't imagine any circumstances in which Harm being transported to Portsmouth ahead of schedule was good, especially when surgery was involved.

"Excuse me, Petty Officer," Mic said to the man sitting behind the admittance desk in the emergency room, "can you tell us where we might find someone who's been taken into surgery?"

"Yes, sir," the petty officer replied. "The surgical unit is on the third floor. Go through those doors and take a right. Go down the hallway and take your first left. Go down that hallway and you'll run into the main elevators. Take it up to the third floor and go left when you get off. OR is down the hallway that will be on your left."

"Thank you, Petty Officer," Mic said, leading Renee away. They found the elevators easily enough, but were now cooling their heels, waiting for one of the four elevators to descend from the upper floors.

Renee tapped one foot impatiently as one of the elevators started to descend from the fifth floor, seemingly taking forever. "Are there stairs around here?" she asked. "This is taking too long."

Mic glanced around, not noticing anything that might indicate a stairwell within his line of vision. "The elevator will be here before we can find them," he said, trying to placate her.

Renee bit back a retort as a man dressed in a Navy khaki uniform walked up beside them carrying a paper bag. He was about to hit the up button when he saw it was already lit. He smiled at Mic and Renee as he stepped back to await the arrival of the elevator.

"It's about time," Renee muttered when the elevator finally arrived and opened before them. After they stepped on, Mic pressed the '3' button and turned to the other man. "What floor, Commander?" he asked, noting the man's rank insignia.

"I'm going to the third floor as well," he said. The doors closed and with a jerk, the elevator began its journey.

Renee stared down, studying her manicure, while Mic glanced up at the ceiling, wondering where Mac was. He wasn't really surprised that A.J. was the first to the hospital since he was transporting Harm's family. But he would have expect Mac to have raced to her friend's side, although he tried not to think of the obvious, what it said about Mac and Harm's relationship that Harm would become her sole focus. They were supposed to be getting married, but while he'd spent most of his day – outside of comforting Renee – apologizing to caterers, florists and others putting the wedding together about the short notice cancellation, Mac had been God only knows where. Did he have to nearly get himself killed to receive that kind of devotion from his own fiancée? He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair.

The elevator arrived on the third floor and they all disembarked, Mic pausing as he tried to recall the petty officer's instructions. "Renee, did the petty officer say right or left off the elevator?" he asked her. She shrugged helplessly. She hadn't even paid attention to Mic's conversation with the emergency room attendant, expecting him to remember the directions.

Their companion from the elevator had started on his way, then turned back when he heard Mic's question. "Maybe I can help you," he suggested. "Are you looking for ICU or the surgical ward?" They were the only places he knew someone would be visiting at the hospital in the middle of the night.

"Surgery," Mic replied. "Her boyfriend was in an accident."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied. "I'm keeping a woman company whose husband is also in surgery. Father Patrick Gilly." He moved the bag he was carrying to the other hand and held out his hand for Mic to shake.

"I'm Mic Brumby," Mic introduced himself. He turned and gestured towards Renee, who was hovering behind him. "And this is Renee Peterson."

"I'm sorry to meet you under such circumstances," Gilly said, nodding towards Renee, who barely seemed to register the conversation. "I'll include your boyfriend in my prayers."

When Renee didn't say anything, Mic replied for her, "I'm sure Renee appreciates that."

Gilly motioned to them to follow him. "I'm on my way back to the waiting room in the surgical ward," he said, "if you'd like to follow me."

-----

Chloe bounded through the door of the waiting room, seeming to possess more energy than anyone had a right to in the middle of the night, evading her father's attempt to hold her back. She fell to her knees in front of Mac and threw her arms around her. "I'm so glad to see you," she said in a rush. "We were all so worried about you. How's Harm?"

Mac returned the hug, grateful to have someone she could talk to. It was so hard talking to the others – A.J. was still somewhat bound by his role as her superior even under the circumstances and she barely knew Harm's family. The closest she'd come to having someone to share her fears with was Skates and Robert and they were still on the _Henry_, due to fly to Portsmouth on the same morning helo which originally would have brought Harm to the hospital. "He's still in surgery," she replied, "but – but the reports seem promising."

"Thank God," Harriet said, looking for a place to put down her half-asleep son. Mac looked up at her as she released Chloe and gestured for Harriet to hand him over.

"Aun' Mac," AJ murmured sleepily as Mac cuddled him close to her, kissing the top of his head. "Where Unca Harm?"

She glanced up at Bud and Harriet, who shrugged helplessly. "He's been asking after the Commander all day," Bud explained. "I don't know how, but he seems to know that something is going on with him."

Chloe nodded. "Yeah, when we were all at JAG this morning," she began, and then glanced at her watch, "no, yesterday morning, he went into Harm's office and asked where he was."

Mac managed to smile down at her godson. "Uncle Harm had a boo-boo," she said, trying to put it in terms a two-year-old might understand.

"Owie?" AJ asked, looking up at her with blue eyes which were suddenly wide awake.

"Yeah, owie," she agreed, nodding. "Uncle Harm has an owie and he's here to make it better."

"Tiss make better," AJ exclaimed. It took Mac a moment, then she blushed as she translated the toddler-speak. "Mommy tiss my owie." He pointed to his arm at a scrape near his elbow.

The childish statement brought chuckles around the room, easing the tension slightly. "I wish it were that simple," Mac murmured, unaware of the eyes suddenly focused on her again.

Trish leaned over to Frank, smiling for the first time in hours. "Harm has to get better," she whispered firmly. "That is a woman in need of children."

Frank smiled and draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her against him. He recognized the statement for what it was, aside from the obvious desire for grandchildren to spoil. "He will," he reassured her with certainty. For his wife's sake, and his own, he refused to contemplate otherwise.

Little AJ lost interest in the topic of Harm's injuries, distracted by the bright, shiny object in his field of vision. "Priddy," he proclaimed, reaching for Mac's hand.

Mac jumped, startled, as AJ pulled at her hand, trying to get a closer look at the band of gold which had captured his attention. As she realized what he was looking at and noticed the strange glances from the others out of the corners of her eyes, she berated herself for not remembering to remove the ring. It would have been easier to make up some reason for its absence for Father Gilly – she could have claimed it didn't fit quite right - than to explain its presence to everyone else.

"That looks like a wedding ring," Chloe stated the obvious. Mac started to wish a hole would open up in the ground and swallow her. Of all the things for Chloe to say ….

Mac was saved from having to come up with an immediate response when the door to the waiting room opened again, only to have her heart leap into her throat. Oh, God. This was the last thing she needed right now. Why couldn't they have shown up just a few minutes later, after she found some way to deflect the questions?

The first through the door, Renee went immediately to Trish and Frank, seemingly unaware of the stillness in the room as everyone waited with baited breath for Mac's explanation. "Frank, Trish," she said, squeezing onto the couch between them and A.J., placing her hand on Trish's arm.

Gilly crossed the room and handed Mac the bag he'd brought up from the cafeteria. "They didn't have much down there this time of night," he said as she took the bag, her expression dazed, making no move to open it. He seemed to be unaware of the sudden increase in tension as he continued, "I got you a chicken salad sandwich, some chips and some orange juice."

Mac blinked as she suddenly realized she was being spoken to and turned her gaze away from the door, which Mic had just walked through. "Thank you, Father," she said, her response rote.

Mic, his eyes immediately drawn to Mac, started crossing the room to her, determined to take her out of there for a talk, but stopped in his tracks as Renee jumped up from the couch, her tone accusatory. "Wait a minute," she demanded, her hands balling into fists at her side. _This is not happening_, she told herself. _No!_ She pointed at Gilly. "He said he was here with a woman whose husband was in surgery after an accident." She turned her heated gaze on Mac and took a step towards her, until Bud intercepted her, mindful that his son was sitting in Mac's lap. Little AJ whimpered at the sound of the loud voice and buried his face against Harm's jacket while the man he was named after contemplated the best way to diffuse this situation. "Who do you think you are, claiming to be Harm's wife?"

Mac glanced at Mic, his expression a cross between disbelief and anger. Swallowing nervously, she lifted her chin and decided to confront the situation like a Marine. "I'm not claiming anything, Renee," she said firmly, her voice infused with a calm she didn't feel. "I am Harm's wife."

-----

To be continued….


	5. Chapter 5

Renee opened her mouth, ready with a sharp retort, until Mac's calmly spoken words registered in her mind. She closed her mouth, uncharacteristically stunned into silence. That had not been the answer she'd been expecting. Chloe thought she looked like a fish gasping for breath and was forced to turn her head towards the wall, struggling to keep the giggles from erupting. Mac probably wouldn't appreciate the humor of the situation right now, not with Harm still fighting for his life. She did allow herself a smile at the thought that Harm was now her brother-in-law.

Clamping down on her lower lip, she turned back around, surveying the scene. Most of the expressions were variations on a theme – shock, confusion. Mic and Renee, of course, were bristling with barely-concealed anger, in addition to everything else. She wondered how long it would be before Mic realized that all the time he'd been searching for his fiancée, she'd been on the carrier with Harm. Under other circumstances, she'd love to see the aftermath of that little revelation.

There were two exceptions – three if she counted the chaplain, who she assumed had officiated at the wedding and who probably had no idea what he'd just walked into the middle of. A.J. was one. He was hard to read; she couldn't tell what he was thinking. For all the emotion he showed on his face, someone may as well have just announced the sky was blue.

Sarah was the other exception. She exhibited absolutely no surprise, like A.J.. But unlike him, she had a faint smile on her face, although Chloe couldn't decide if it was because she was happy with the news or because she was trying to calm little AJ, who was clutching the edge of Harm's leather jacket, half covering his face with it. She was leaning towards him, murmuring softly something Chloe couldn't quite make out. After a moment, AJ released the edge of the jacket, leaning against Mac's chest as Sarah reached out and rubbed his tummy.

Mac glanced down at the toddler in her lap, sharing a look with Sarah as AJ's eyes started to drift closed. In just a few brief moments, she'd seen what it was about his grandmother that Harm loved so much and she allowed herself a brief moment to imagine Sarah as great-grandmother to her child. A ghost of a smile tugged at her mouth at the thought of the family she'd always wanted, a family with Harm.

Renee finally found her voice, her tone low and trembling with anger. "There is no way you can be his wife," she insisted. "That's impossible." She spun towards Mic, who had not spoken since he'd entered the room. "Come on. Say something."

"Of course, it's not true," Mic said, his voice not quite calm. "It doesn't make any sense. She probably just arrived at the hospital first and they assumed she was Harm's wife or maybe she told them that because it was the only way the hospital would give her any information. Hospitals can be strict about giving out information on patients to non-family members."

"So you're saying that Mac is lying?" Chloe cut in. She couldn't keep quiet, not with that kind of accusation. And this was coming from a man who claimed to love Mac and to want to marry her?

"No, of course not," Mic quickly backpedaled, realizing how that sounded. "I understand she's upset about her …. best friend nearly dying and she can't stand not knowing what's going on, so she probably did let the hospital believe that she is family. But look at this logically. When would this have happened? Rabb's been on the carrier all day…." His voice trailed off as realization struck and his tone took on a hard edge. "When the Admiral came out and announced that Rabb had been pulled from the water, he said that you had already been told that Rabb was safe. But it wasn't just a coincidence that you happened to ring up the Admiral right at the same time that he received word from the carrier?"

"No, it wasn't," Mac confirmed, uttering her first words since her stunning announcement. Her voice still gave no hint of the turmoil surrounding her. "As soon as Captain Ingles called me, I drove to Norfolk and took a helo to the carrier in the morning after the weather cleared. We got married on the carrier by the chaplain that afternoon."

"I don't know about Rabb," Mic protested, going with instinct and fighting back against the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one that insisted that every word she said was true, "but you're Catholic and you don't just get married just like that. There's planning and preparations and classes to go through."

"I know that," Mac countered, a bit of the frustration at the last five months of her life bubbling to the surface. "If there's nothing else I've learned during the last five months, it's that. You know what? It's about time I did something that I wanted instead of just going along for the ride in my own life. I wanted a small wedding, not a huge production to rival Charles and Di."

Mic was stunned into silence at hearing her discontent vocalized and thrown in his face. He'd been doing it for her. Why couldn't she see that?

Sarah, recognizing the storm brewing in Mic's eyes, decided that it was time to step in before things got even further out of hand. Right in front of her was the perfect opportunity to deflect attention. "Mac, I think AJ here needs a diaper change," she said quietly. "Why don't you ask Harriet for his diaper bag? I assume you've changed a diaper before."

Distracted, she hadn't even realized that AJ did smell like he needed a fresh diaper. She flashed a grateful half-smile at Sarah, realizing what the other woman was trying to do. "Harriet, where's AJ's bag?" she asked, standing and settling her godson on her hip. "He needs a diaper change."

Harriet was about to suggest that she take him, then thought better of it when she caught Sarah almost imperceptibly shaking her head out of the corner of her eye. Understanding the unspoken message, she bent down to pick up the diaper bag and handed it to Mac without comment. She knew that if things were allowed to continue much long, they would explode. Mic didn't care about anything the fact that he'd lost Mac, and he was exhibiting a clear unwillingness to let her go; while Mac was too tired to think about what she was saying – definitely a recipe for an explosion. And God only knew how Renee would figure into it, especially since Harm was in no condition for her to lash out at.

Mac nodded her thanks and slung the bag over her shoulder, nearly walking into the rest of the JAG crew as they arrived. Mac accepted quick hugs from Jackie and Carolyn, a comforting pat on the shoulder from Alan and a slightly stilted 'Good to see you, Colonel' from Loren before escaping the room.

Renee watched the scene at the door, silently fuming. The rest of them weren't even aware, as far as she knew, of the latest developments, yet they were acting like Mac was the one they needed to comfort, not Harm's long-time girlfriend. She remembered her conversation with Mic about being outsiders. She'd been around long enough that she shouldn't have to shoulder her way into her boyfriend's life.

Mic was fuming as well, but for a slightly different reason. He connected the dots between Mac's sudden departure from the room and her whispered discussion with Harm's grandmother immediately before that. Now, not only did he have to worry about Rabb's interference in his relationship with Mac, but also with that of his grandmother. Making a decision to wrest back control of the situation, he turned to follow Mac out, only to discover his path blocked by a quick-moving A.J., who had anticipated Mic's actions and gotten up to block him. Mic frown, his learned respect for superior officers forcing down his first thought of simply pushing past A.J..

A.J. was counting on exactly that respect to avoid a physical confrontation, figuring that his years in the military would be the only thing holding Mic back. That gave A.J. the upper hand. "Brumby," he said, his voice low so that only Mic could hear, but with enough of an edge that Mic should realize this was not a request, "everyone is here because they are worried about Commander Rabb. That is the only thing that these people are thinking about and you will not distract them with issues which can and will be dealt with later. If you have a problem with that, I have no problem with you leaving. You will not upset anyone further, especially the Commander's family."

Mic read between the lines. He was not to upset Mac. That was what A.J. was telling him. His fiancée had just run off and married another man, on the day that they were supposed to get married, and he was supposed to just sit on his hands and accept the situation? He started to speak, but A.J. crossed his arms over his chest, his expression hardening. Mic was a boxer and could stand up to just about anyone, but the look reminded him that A.J. was a SEAL. If Mic really was an enemy, A.J. could probably kill him without even blinking and before anyone realized what was happening.

Although his stance didn't really change, Mic not being one who gave up easily, A.J. recognized the temporary look of defeat in Mic's eyes. He would back down for now, but A.J. wasn't foolish enough to believe it was anything but temporary. He hoped that by the time Mic decided to press the issue again, Mac would be in the frame of mind to deal with it on her own. "Find an empty spot and sit down," A.J. ordered. Reluctantly, Mic complied, although A.J. was not happy with the spot he chose – on the floor next to the couch Mac had just vacated. He opted not to cause a scene, but would keep an eye on the situation.

That situation diffused for now, A.J. decided it was time for a little reconnaissance. His gaze meeting Gilly's, he nodded towards the door. He didn't think anything would happen if he stepped out. There were several people, starting with Bud and Harriet, who would be like pit bulls to protect Mac. Mic and Renee wouldn't be going anywhere – not without a guard, anyway. Gilly nodded and followed A.J. out of the room, waiting until the door was closed behind them to speak. "Sir?" he began, recognizing in A.J. the air of someone in command despite the lack of a uniform. "What is going on here?"

A.J. chuckled ruefully. "That would be a very good question …. Father?" The final word was a question, the Chaplain's Corps insignia on his collar only indicating that Gilly was a Christian minister.

Gilly nodded, holding out his hand. "Father Patrick Gilly, chaplain aboard the _Henry_," he introduced himself.

"Admiral A.J. Chegwidden," A.J. returned, shaking Gilly's hand. "Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie's commanding officer. As for what is going on, I've been watching those two together for almost five years and even I'm not sure I can completely answer that."

"I noticed that the most common reaction when Sarah made her announcement was shock," Gilly said, trying to work things out in his mind. "That surprises me when Harm and Sarah both said that they were already planning to get married."

A.J. nearly laughed at that. Over the years, many people, himself included, at learned the hard way that heaven help anyone or anything that got in Harm and Mac's way when they wanted something. Finally, after all the years of dancing around each other, drifting in and out of reach, what they'd decided they wanted was each other. It did not surprise him that they would be evasive with a priest if it would get them what they wanted. Anyway, if Mac had still been wearing her engagement ring from Mic when she arrived on the carrier, it might have been a logical assumption on Gilly's part, one they just went along with. "I see you've been run over by the Dynamic Duo," he remarked dryly.

At Gilly's puzzled look, he explained, "That's what a lot of people who've met them in the course of their duties have nicknamed them. Batman and Robin. Together in the courtroom, they're a force of nature. They've never been beaten. Well, there was that case they won, but there was no punishment awarded to the Colonel they were prosecuting and another case where their client wasn't really at fault, but a plea bargain was made mostly for reasons of political expediency. Opposing each other, well, let's just say that it's interesting and you never really can be sure of the outcome. As a commanding officer, I couldn't ask for two better officers working for me."

"I sense a 'but' in there, Admiral," Gilly remarked.

"Very perceptive, Father," he replied, starting to walk down the hall, Gilly following. A.J. was silent for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts on the last five years. But that wasn't something that could be condensed into a few phrases. He'd witnessed most of it, but even he couldn't say that he understood the entire situation. "The best I can say to even begin to explain it is that sometimes brilliance in one area doesn't necessarily carry over into others."

"Meaning Harm and Sarah's personal lives?" he guessed. A.J. nodded confirmation. "But that's one thing that struck me when I was talking to them before the wedding. They seemed so certain. I just assumed that they were in such a rush because they'd almost lost each other and were afraid to wait any longer."

"That is true to a certain extent," A.J. said. "They did almost lose each other, but that happened before the crash." He hesitated. They were getting into murky waters here, waters A.J. had been wading into far too much over the last twenty-four hours. But Harm and Mac were going to need all the friends they could get and who better to have on their side than a priest, especially if what he suspected was right and there ended up being legal and spiritual issues involved in their hasty marriage. "I don't know what happened, but something did which brought them back to each other literally within hours before the crash."

"And how do Mr. Brumby and Ms. Peterson fit into this?" Gilly asked. "When I met them at the elevator, they said Ms. Peterson's boyfriend had been brought here after an accident. It's not that hard to connect the dots and assume they were referring to Harm. But beyond that, Admiral, frankly this doesn't make any sense."

"Let's say that Mr. Brumby and Ms. Peterson are the exes who weren't aware of the fact that they were," A.J. suggested, sensing that Gilly could draw the right conclusions from that.

Gilly's eyes went wide as he fully realized what A.J. was saying and combined that with what little he did know already. "I'd already assumed that Mr. Brumby was connected to Sarah somehow," he said slowly, still grappling with the truth. "I just couldn't figure out how. It wasn't Harm she was engaged to; it was Mr. Brumby."

A.J. nodded, but felt compelled to explain further. "Apparently," he said, "and I do have to say that this is all secondhand information, Comm …. Harm and Mac were able to work things out between them. But the crash happened before things could be, um, settled with Brumby and Ms. Peterson."

Gilly stopped in front of a large window, silently digesting this information, trying to figure out what it all meant. He lifted his eyes heavenward, murmuring, "Lord, what have I done?"

A.J. was about to say something when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, finding Mac a few feet away, little AJ dozing against her shoulder, her expression hesitant. "Colonel," he greeted her. Gilly turned and looked at her, his expression neutral.

"Admiral, Father," she said, shifting the toddler in her arms, although whether it was to find a more comfortable position or out of nervousness, neither man was sure. She couldn't hear what they'd been discussing, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that they'd probably been talking about her. "Um …." She glanced down, unsure what to say. By now, Gilly had either been told or started to figure things out. Even though she barely knew him, she felt an overwhelming sense that she'd disappointed him. That she'd disappointed A.J., of that fact she had no doubt. "I know this is hard to understand, but even I don't understand a lot of what's happened between Harm and me the last two years …." She shrugged helpless as she trailed off.

"Since Harm left JAG," A.J. said, a statement rather than a question.

"He needed closure on his that part of his life," she said quietly, taking up position in front of the window and staring out into the blackness. "I understand that now. But it hurt so much when it seemed like he was choosing flying over …. everything else. It's not his fault. I could have been supportive. I could have kept in touch. I could have welcomed him back with open arms. There are so many things I could have done, like listening when he said he needed more time. Instead, I did something that ended up being a huge mistake just to spite him –" She stopped suddenly as she realized what she'd just said. She hadn't even been able to admit that to herself, let alone to anyone else, that she'd initially taken Mic's ring because of Harm, just as she'd finally agreed to the proposal for a similar reason.

"Is that what this is about?" A.J. asked, carefully gauging her response. "Fixing the last two years?"

"Is that what you think, Sir?" she demanded, whirling around to face him. Little AJ stirred in her arms, but didn't awaken. "I love Harm." She looked a little stunned at the words coming out of her own mouth, but soldiered on. It did feel good to say it out loud, to not have to hide from it. "I love that man more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. He's the one I want to grow old with, surrounded by our family …. Sir."

Although Gilly was surprised, A.J. silently cheered at the vehemence of her response. Mac was passionate in her beliefs – she was well-matched with Harm in that – and A.J. now realized that passion was something that had been lacking from her in the last couple of years, especially when it came to the man she'd been planning to marry. She'd seemed to be drifting through her relationship with Mic. For the first time in a long while, he saw a flash of the old Mac.

Gilly's expression softened. No matter what else he thought about this mess that he found himself caught in the middle of, he was convinced that she was telling the truth. He prided himself on his ability to read people and he sensed no covering up. In fact, he wondered if this wasn't actually truth being uncovered, if she wasn't just being able to admit the truth for herself.

"Mac …." A.J. began in a gentle tone. She stared at him, a bit surprised. He sounded so accepting. He almost chuckled, thinking that she was probably remembering his first admonition to the two of them. That almost seemed like a lifetime ago. "You do realize that there will be questions, and things to deal with …."

"I know that, Sir," she interrupted, not really surprised when the expected rebuke didn't come as she began to realize that A.J. was trying to put aside his role as commanding officer to be a friend. Her voice barely trembled as she continued, "But I can't concentrate on any of that now. You didn't see him, Sir. I've never seen him like that. He …." Gilly stepped up to her and put his arm around her shoulder. She accepted the embrace, but didn't return it, struggling to maintain control. She rested her cheek against the top of little AJ's head, closing her eyes. "I can't think about any of that until I can be sure that my husband is going to survive."

A.J. nodded. There would be plenty of time to deal with everything else later. He'd tried all night to believe that Harm would come through this like he'd come through everything else, with a swagger and a cocky grin, but Mac stopped him short. Beneath the apparently collected and calm façade, he could see that she was terrified, perhaps more than she'd been in her life. _Just how bad had things been aboard the_ Henry? he wondered. _Was it really that close?_

Too exhausted to deal with it anymore, Mac looked down at the child sleeping peacefully despite the turmoil, kissing the top of his head. "Sir, I probably should get him back to his mother," she said, reluctance evident in her voice.

A.J. recognized it and suggested, "Why don't Father Gilly and I take him back to the waiting room? You can join us when you're ready."

She nodded, grateful for the chance he was offering her, and passed A.J. the diaper bag before transferring little AJ from her arms to his. Under other circumstances, Mac might have had cause to smile at the image of her tough as nails CO cradling in his arms the boy he'd delivered two years earlier. "I'll …." she began, reaching out to stroke her godson's hair, "I'll be back as soon as I can. I hope it won't be too much longer before the surgery is over."

A.J. watched her wander off, her shoulders slumping. He prayed for her sake and for Harm's that everything would finally work out. He turned back to find Gilly watching him. "They've got a tough road ahead of them," A.J. commented, at a loss as to what else to say.

"I'm not sure that even begins to describe it," Gilly replied. "I don't know how much you know about marriage in the Catholic Church."

"I'm Catholic," A.J. said, "and I got married in the Church. That was over thirty years ago, but I think I remember enough to know where you're going with this."

"The Church is somewhat strict," Gilly explained, "and understandably so since marriage is considered one of the seven sacraments, about enforcing the rules under which a couple may get married in the Church. Marriage is supposed to be a lifetime commitment, not entered into hastily. And both parties should be free from other …. encumbrances. The Church doesn't uphold the plight troth as it used to, but I think questions can't help but be raised under the circumstances about whether or not Harm and Sarah should have entered into a marriage with each other."

"But of course," A.J. said somewhat sarcastically, "the Church wouldn't have minded blessing a marriage between Mic Brumby and Mac just because they went through some Church-sanctioned classes and just because Mac had managed to convince everyone, maybe even herself, that marrying him was the right thing to do?" He shook his head. Although he was a life-long Catholic and couldn't imagine himself as anything different, sometimes he had to wonder about some of the Church's policies. "How is that right?"

All Gilly could do was shrug. He didn't really have an answer for that one, but looking at it from a perspective outside of that as a priest sworn to uphold the sacraments, he could see A.J.'s point. Marriage was supposed to be sacred, but how could it be considered so under those circumstances? But that didn't make the current situation any more correct.

"Father, let me ask you something," A.J. said. "If there were no Mic Brumby, no Renee Peterson – under the circumstances, would you have any doubts whatsoever that you had performed a wedding ceremony for two people who loved each other?"

"You really believe in the two of them," Gilly remarked, a bit surprised. Although it was his job to be close to people, to be involved in their lives to a certain extent, it wasn't what could be called the norm for most commanding officers.

"Father, if there is nothing else I am sure of in this entire situation," A.J. replied with conviction, "it is that those two people love each other like …. I can't describe it. We could stand here all night and we wouldn't even begin to cover a fraction of what they've been through together. You should think about that. Regardless of the rules and regulations – and have no doubt that I have my own to worry about in this situation – doesn't love like that deserve to be supported and upheld?"

-----

With each sweep of the second hand around the clock hanging on the wall, Mic was growing more frustrated. Right after A.J. and Gilly had left the room, the questions had started, which led to the situation being explained – what could be explained, that is – to those who had walked in after the denouement. He thought Chloe took entirely too much pleasure in announcing Harm and Mac's marriage. He could also feel the tension in the room and feel everyone trying not to look at him. Harm's family had ended up huddled together, talking about what he didn't want to know.

Renee grew tired of feeling just as ignored and settled onto the couch where Mac had recently been sitting, leaning over the arm to talk to Mic. "So now what?" she asked quietly, still mindful of the presence of the others in the room, especially Harm's family. Right now, the last thing she needed was to alienate them with a display of histrionics. "This is a little bit worse than Harm and Mac simply having an affair."

Mic looked up at her. "You've got a gift for bloody understatement, Renee," he said, just as quietly. "My fiancée just married another man."

"I'd have to say that she isn't your fiancée anymore," she retorted, sorry as soon as she saw the flash of pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mic, but she's married to Harm now."

"So are you just willing to accept this?" he asked.

"I don't want to," she admitted, "but right now I don't know what else to do. It's not like I can go ask Harm if he really meant it."

"Maybe that's it," he speculated. "What if Sarah just felt sorry for him and that's why she …." The words stuck in his throat. He couldn't say. That would be tantamount to admitting that it was true, that there wasn't anything he could do.

"So what does that say about Harm?" she demanded, fighting back tears. _Just how many more tears can I shed over this man? _she wondered. "That he would ask her to marry him, I mean?"

"What if …." he began, considering. "Rabb's got a head injury. Possibly a life-threatening one," Renee blanched at that, but he continued, warming up to his theory, "if the speed with which they rushed him here is any indication. How do we now that he was even thinking clearly? Maybe he confused the two of you."

Renee snorted at the thought. He must really have been far out of it to make that kind of mistake. "And do you really believe that?" she asked.

"Renee," he said, trying to be comforting, "what I do know is that this marriage can't possibly be valid. They didn't have a marriage license. There were no blood tests. And I don't really think the Catholic Church is going to look kindly on the fact that they were misled. They ask a lot of questions and if they aren't satisfied, there is no wedding. There's no way they could have answered those questions truthfully."

"Okay, okay," she said, cutting him off with a wave of her hand, not entirely convinced that he wasn't in some kind of fantasy world where he would have what he wanted if he just believe it. If the world worked like that, she and Harm would already be married. "So what if this is true and someone decrees that the marriage isn't valid? What then? Do you think Mac is just going to accept that and come back to you with open arms?"

"She loves me," he insisted, looking down at the floor as he said it. "Until all this happened, Sarah was going to marry me yesterday."

"I thought about asking you this earlier during our conversation in the car, but I didn't," Renee began, reaching down and putting her hand on his arm. He looked up at her, remembering the conversation she was talking about, sure that he knew what was coming and equally sure that he did not want to hear it. If Renee noticed his expression, she chose to ignore it. "Has Mac ever told you that she loves you? And I don't mean in vague terms that could mean anything, like 'I want you in my life'. Has she said those three words 'I love you'?"

A long moment of silence stretched between them before Mic softly admitted, "No. She never said the words. She would always say something like 'me, too' when I would say them to her."

Renee wasn't sure whether to swear or cry at his response, even if something deep inside of her had been expecting it. She squeezed his arm, silently conveying the message that she understood his pain and shared it. "Do you think they've said it to each other?" she wondered, the question known to both of them to be strictly rhetorical. It was the one question that neither was sure they could bear the answer to.

-----

To be continued….


	6. Chapter 6

After aimlessly wandering the silent halls for a few moments, trying not to think about the fight going on in the operating room, Mac ended up in front of the elevator. Even walking through the wide, empty corridors, she could feel the walls closing in on her and she had to remind herself not to jump every time she heard a sound. It was a hospital. There were people moving around twenty-four hours a day. Just because there was someone coming down the hall didn't mean someone was following her. It didn't mean Mic was coming to demand explanations she wasn't ready to give.

She was a Marine and kept reminding herself that Marine didn't, under any circumstances, jump at sounds. That characteristic, honed through years of becoming sensitive to and tiptoeing around her father's alcoholic rages, had become a distant memory after boot camp. But right now, she'd figured she could face down an enemy pointing an AK-47 at her head without flinching before she could talk to Mic Brumby right now, trying to find the words that she couldn't string together right now. He would want explanations. But how could she concentrate on him when the man she loved was fighting for his life? Deep down inside, she knew she should feel sorry for what she'd put Mic through, for the pain she'd inflicted. But she couldn't seem to summon the strength right now to feel anything for him.

She rested her head against the wall between the elevators, drawing in a few deep, calming breaths. What had it had been like after Harm's first crash? How had his parents and grandmother made it through the endless flight to Germany, not knowing if he was going to be alive or dead when they got there? She'd seen him, understood his condition as much as a lay person could, but she still couldn't shake the numbing fear that he might not make it. It had crossed her mind one of them what the waiting after that first crash had been like, but she hadn't had the opportunity. She'd had so little time with Harm's family before everything else had happened. She realized that she didn't even know what they thought about Harm's hasty marriage to her.

She pushed herself back from the wall, her finger hovering over the down call button for the elevator when a sign almost directly in front of her caught her eye and she pressed the up button instead. A few moments later, the elevator was depositing her on the fourth floor. After taking a moment to study the directional sign on the wall, she headed off to the right, stopping in front of a large window, her forehead resting against the glass. It was so quiet here, so peaceful. This place was about life, not death.

Mac jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around to find a black woman about her age standing behind her, dressed in blue hospital scrubs. "May I help you, Ma'am?" the woman asked, her voice firm.

Suddenly, it occurred to Mac that there would be questions about someone hanging out in front of the nursery in the middle of the night, someone who obviously didn't belong there. "I'm sorry," she said, gesturing nervously with her hands. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Rabb. My husband's down in surgery …. he was in an accident …. it's going to be a while and I just had to get out of there."

The nurse studied her impassively for a long moment, sizing her up. Then her expression relaxed as she apparently decided that Mac was telling the truth. "I'm sorry about your husband," she said sympathetically. She nodded towards the nursery. "Do you have any children?"

"Not yet," Mac replied, shaking her head sadly. "We've talked about it, but …" She shrugged. There was no easy way to explain that one. Under other circumstances, the story might have provided a laugh. Now, it was simply a reminder of what might never be. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to banish the thought. Harm would recover and someday they would have that child Harm had promised her. "I guess it just hasn't been the right time yet, but now …." She turned back to stare through the window. All five babies inside the nursery were asleep, two boys and three girls, so beautiful and peaceful. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what a child of hers and Harm's would look like. They'd joked about a boy with her looks and a girl with his looks, but she realized that wasn't what she wanted at all.

She wasn't really sure what she wanted in a daughter. Actually, that wasn't entirely accurate. She did know she wanted a little girl who would grow up like a princess – the apple of her father's eye, sheltered and protected by a mother who would never leave her. It was the looks she couldn't figure out, although she thought the combination of her caramel skin combined with Harm's brilliant blue-green eyes did seem intriguing in her dreams.

As for a little boy – there have never been any question in her mind on that point. In every dream she'd ever had, in every fantasy which had seemed impossible to fulfill, her little boy had always been a miniature version of his father, destined to grow up strong and brave with his father's cocky smile and self-confidence. She'd once proclaimed that one Harmon Rabb was all she could handle in her life. And to be sure, any child of Harm's was probably destined to be a handful, by turns stubborn and infuriating. But with his father's influence, he would also be capable of such incredible compassion and devotion.

What if that was all she had left of Harm? What if their only legacy together was the ghosts of the children who might have been? In a back corner of her mind, she wished there was a possibility that the beautiful night they spent together had created new life. She'd been so careful about protection, not because of that night, but before. When Mic had first brought up the subject of using protection after he moved back to the States, she said she didn't want to think about starting a family unless and until they got married, which he'd accepted without too much comment. Looking back, it had been one of the few things in the course of their relationship which she'd gotten her way on without argument.

A few days after she and Mic had discussed the subject, she'd woken up in the middle of the night, shaking. It had started out as the most wonderful dream. Sunlight streaming through the window, she'd been sitting in a rocking chair, a newborn at her breast, tiny fingers flexing around one of hers as the dark-haired child suckled. After the baby had finished and she lifted him – from the blue bedding in the nearby crib, she thought 'boy' was a safe assumption – to her shoulder to burp, the baby had opened his eyes to stare at her. It was at that point she'd woken up.

Quietly slipping out of bed so as not to wake Mic, she'd spent the rest of the night at her desk, a case file opened in front of her as she attempted to banish the dream from her mind. It wasn't the dream that bothered her. She wanted a family with a longing beginning to border on desperation. That snooze button she'd once talked about seemed to be nearing the end of its usefulness. Maybe that was why it had been so easy to let Mic bowl her over with his declarations of love. He'd offered her everything she could possibly want and which Harm hadn't seemed willing to give her. But even as she shared her bed with Mic and as much of her life as she was capable, his visage wasn't the one that haunted her dreams. And the child in her arms hadn't looked up at her with Mic's eyes, or even hers. The child she ached for had stared back at her with eyes like the sea on a clear day.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the morose thoughts again. She kept pushing them away, but they stubbornly refused to release their hold on her. _Harm is going to survive_, she told herself. _And someday, we'll have that family we both want_. _We still have time_.

She realized that the nurse had said something to her. "I'm sorry," she said, glancing back over her shoulder. The other woman didn't seem bothered, but instead gazed back at her with understanding and compassion in her dark eyes. "I was just wondering what it would be like …."

"Thought much about what you'd like?" the nurse asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Mac replied with a shrug, turning back to the window. She sighed softly as one of the babies, a girl, stirred in her sleep, tiny legs flailing beneath the blanket, the fingers of one small hand curling and uncurling reflexively. "Maybe one of each would be nice someday." She thought about what she'd just said, then managed a half-hearted laugh. "Just not at once. I don't know if I can handle that, not on top of dealing with my husband."

"He's a big kid himself?" the nurse asked with a knowing smile.

"At times," Mac said with a slight smile. _Maybe not so much a big kid_, she corrected herself. _But he gets into trouble like a kid and all you can do is shake your head, knowing that he'll do it again and again._

"Lieutenant Williams?" a voice called from behind him.

"My supervisor, Commander Jameson," Williams whispered. She studied Mac critically for a moment. The nursery was quiet, so there wasn't much for her to do, and Mac looked like she could use the company. But she did have to report to her superior. "You'll be okay?"

Mac nodded and Williams stepped away to speak to her supervisor. "Ma'am, I know this probably looks irregular," she began in a whisper.

"Lieutenant, do we have to discuss the policy on unauthorized visitors?" Jameson asked firmly, her tone carrying a harsh edge. "It's the middle of the night."

"With all due respect, Ma'am," Williams said, "I didn't see the problem. Her husband's in surgery and she needed to get out of there for a while. I've been with her the entire time."

"In surgery?" she asked, unable to keep the note of disbelief out of her voice.

"That's what she said," Williams replied, "and I wasn't about to accuse a Lieutenant Colonel of lying, Ma'am."

"A Lieutenant Colonel?"

"That's what she told me, Ma'am," Williams explained. "And she is obviously …. Colonel?"

Mac didn't hear Williams say her name, her attention captured by a small TV behind the nurses' desk across the hall from the nursery window. The sound from the television had caught her attention and now the scene of a piece of gunmetal-gray metal being lifted from the ocean held it. The nurses took one look at her and with a nod from Jameson, Williams reached over the counter to turn up the sound.

"_The Navy pilot critically injured in the crash of an F-14 last night has been evac'd to Portsmouth Naval Hospital for emergency surgery, while a Naval investigative team is headed to the aircraft carrier _Patrick Henry_ in an attempt to discover what sent the Tomcat that Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. was piloting plunging into the Atlantic Ocean. In other news …"_

Williams turned the volume back down, staring at Mac with sudden understanding. "Your husband is the pilot they were just talking about," she said.

Mac couldn't even manage a nod as Jameson, concerned about her suddenly-ashen appearance, put an arm around Mac's waist and let her towards a row of chairs against the wall, gently pushing her down into one without protest. "Williams, get the Colonel a cup of water," she ordered as she sat down next to Mac. She might have been considered somewhat strict by her subordinates, but she'd been a nurse before she'd been a Naval officer.

"I didn't even know they'd found the wreckage," Mac whispered, pressing her hands against the sides of her head as she tried to banish from her mind the image of a piece of Harm's Tomcat being hoisted from the ocean by a Navy salvage ship. "That piece they were lifting, the top of my desk is bigger than that."

"I saw," Jameson said, not sure what else to say. Williams rushed up and shoved a paper cup of water under Mac's nose. Mac's trembling fingers closed around the cup but she didn't take a sip. Jameson studied her worriedly, and then glanced up at Williams. "Lieutenant, isn't it about time for your break?"

"Yes, Ma'am," she replied, confused.

"Colonel, you look like you could use some air," Jameson said. "Lieutenant Williams will escort you outside. It's a bit chilly outside tonight after the storm, but the air will probably do you some good."

"I don't know," she murmured, shaking her head. She couldn't leave, not while Harm's life was still hanging by the slimmest of threads. "What if something happens while I'm gone?"

"I'll call down to the surgical ward and let them know where you'll be," Jameson said firmly. "Someone can come get you if something happens."

After a long moment in which Jameson thought Mac was going to refuse, she finally nodded. She didn't particularly want to get some air, didn't really want to leave Harm, but she had to get out of the hospital. Slowly, she stood and, still clutching her cup of water, followed Williams to the elevator.

Once the elevator doors closed on them, Williams said carefully, not sure how far she could go before overstepping her bounds with a colonel, "I'm a good listener if you want to talk. None of my usual patients can talk, but sometimes things happen and their parents need someone to talk to."

It wasn't until they were outside that Mac finally spoke in a distant voice, "How do you do that – deal with people dying? I've seen people dying before, but …. this is different. It's never been someone I've loved so much." Eddie, Dalton, Chris – all had died in front of her, but all the emotions she'd felt each of those times combined didn't even come close to measuring up to what it would be like if Harm didn't make it. She honestly didn't know what she would do if he did die.

"I don't know," Williams admitted. "The first time I saw a patient die – she'd been born premature, but you always hope - I wanted to quit right then and there. I was convinced I couldn't take it. How could a life be brought into this world full of unlimited possibilities, only to be snuffed out like that before she'd had a chance to live?"

"Harm and I had a goddaughter," Mac remembered, closing her eyes briefly. "One day at lunch, a few weeks after we found out our friends were expecting a girl, we were talking about what she was going to be like. She was going to be the prettiest little girl, but we were going to teach her about other things, too. I was going to teach her how to hunt dinosaur tracks and Harm wanted to teach her how to fly. Her parents were even going to name her after me. In talking with him, I became convinced that what Harm really wants is a little girl of his own. She would be daddy's little princess …." Her voice trailed off, overwhelmed. _No_, she told herself yet again. _I just have to keep believing that Harm and I will get our chance at a family._

"Something happened to your goddaughter?"

Mac sat down on a bench with a sigh, burying her hands into her jacket pockets as she studied the dark sky. She could barely discern the outline of dark clouds moving across the skyline, blocking the moon and stars from view. "She died at birth," she confirmed sadly. "The cord was prolapsed and the doctor tried to deliver naturally …. I still remember the sound of Harm's voice when he called and told me. And the look in his eyes when we arrived at the hospital. We hadn't even known this little girl yet, but I can't remember seeing him look like that since we found out his father died.

"Sometimes I just wonder why things happen," she continued. "Harm's grandfather was shot down in World War II, his father in Vietnam. His brother's in the Russian Army and he's currently sitting in a POW camp in Chechnya. And every time Harm manages to get into trouble …. it feels like I can't breathe until I know he's going to be okay. And every time he would come out of yet more trouble with that cocky grin on his face – I don't know, maybe I started to believe nothing could happen to him. Things would happen to him, but he'd always be okay."

Williams wasn't sure what to say, but was saved from coming up with anything when a voice called out, obviously for Mac. "Colonel, thank God," Jason exclaimed as he and Victor trotted up. "Everyone's been worried about you."

"I'm okay," she said, avoiding their concerned gazes, her eyes falling to where her fingers were fiddling with the zipper of her jacket, unable to summon the strength to sound convincing. She couldn't face any of her friends and co-workers right now. There were just too many questions. Even if they would remain unasked, whether out of respect or because of rank barriers, they would remain there, hanging over her head.

Jason and Victor glanced at each other. They were both worried, but all too aware of the line drawn between enlisted and officers. Jason remembered when Dalton had died, but he couldn't remember her looking as drawn, as tired then as she did now. But Victor had never seen her like this, never seen anything but the gung-ho Marine image she projected to the world at large. "How is Commander Rabb, ma'am?" Victor asked.

"Still in surgery," she replied distractedly. "It's about half over, I guess. Maybe a little past that. Everyone else is upstairs in the waiting room."

"Is there anything we can do, ma'am?" Jason asked.

Mac shook her head, but said nothing as Jason and Victor exchanged helpless expressions. Suddenly, a beeper went off, startling everyone. Williams glanced down at the beeper on her waist, swearing inwardly. The sole baby in NICU had taken a turn for the worse. "I need to get back inside," she said without elaborating. "Will you be okay with your friends, Colonel?"

Again, Mac didn't answer, staring off into the distance. Williams took the silence as assent and motioned to the two men, lowering her voice as she leaned towards them. "She's a little shaky right now," she said. "She saw a news report about her husband's crash and there was footage of a piece of his plane being hauled from the water."

Thinking that the nurse had simply assumed Harm and Mac were married, neither Victor nor Jason gave a second thought to her saying that Harm was Mac's husband. As she walked off, Victor gestured towards the bench. "Do you mind if we sit down, Colonel?" he asked.

She lifted her head and looked at them. "Look, you guys should go inside," she suggested wearily. She was too tired to deal with them. "I just need a few minutes."

"Ma'am," Victor said, trying to sound logical, "I doubt Admiral Chegwidden would be happy if we left you out here alone."

"Nice try, Gunny," she said, realizing that he was trying to prevent her from ordering them to go inside. While a part of her was thankful to have such supportive friends, a larger part of her just wanted to be left alone to shoulder her burdens. They couldn't understand, no matter how much they wanted to say that they did. "But the Admiral is the one who suggested I take a few minutes by myself."

"With all due respect, ma'am," Victor continued, undeterred, "I – we both would feel better if someone was with you. You shouldn't be alone right now."

Mac sighed. "You do realize that I could order you to leave me alone," she reminded them, but her tone carried no command authority in it. She couldn't summon the strength.

"And I'm hoping that you won't do that, ma'am," Victor countered. He knew it was a fine line, but he didn't like the idea of leaving her out her alone. Right now, she needed her friends. "It would make us feel better."

When she didn't protest again, Jason sat down on the other side of Victor, the two of them exchanging glances. Now what? Should they refrain from saying anything, merely letting Mac be alone with her thoughts? Or should they engage in idle chitchat as a distraction?

"Ma'am, what happened to the Commander?" Jason asked after a heavy silence, the question tentative.

Mac stared down silently and after a moment, both men thought she wasn't going to answer them. The wind picked up and she pulled the jacket tighter around her as she finally said, her voice barely detectible, "He had a seizure aboard the ship because of a head injury the doctor didn't know about. After some tests, they decided they had to do immediate surgery."

"I'm sure the Commander will be okay, ma'am," Jason said, trying to infuse his tone with his usual optimism.

"He always is, isn't he?" Mac mused, with little conviction. She knew he was trying to be positive, but he hadn't seen what she'd seen. He had no first-hand knowledge of just how bad it really was. Neither of them did.

What could either of them say to that, they both wondered. Harm did always seem to have the devil's own luck. It was hard to think about it, but would that luck run out someday, maybe even today? "I'm sorry, ma'am," Victor said, at a loss. It seemed inadequate, but what else could he say?

"I'm sorry, too," she whispered, more to herself than to them. "I'm sorry about a lot of things."

"Hello, Mrs. Rabb," Jason called out, noticing the other woman's approach. He quickly stood, offering his place on the bench to her, Victor moving out of the way as well.

Mac glanced up from where she'd been staring at the laces of her sneakers, sighing inwardly. She still wasn't sure if she could face Harm's family, at least one on one. On the one hand, they knew what she was going through, had gone through it ten years ago. But what was she supposed to say to them? They were strangers who suddenly found themselves as family under hardly ideal circumstances. "I was just telling them that I don't need someone to watch over me," she said.

"Nonsense," Sarah said firmly, shaking her head. She glanced at Victor and Jason, who understood the silent message and hurriedly made their excuses, Mac barely noticing as they headed towards the emergency entrance to the hospital. "Everyone needs someone, even if it's just to be there."

She studied the other woman. She didn't look at all like her tall, strong grandson. She was a small woman, almost frail-looking, although Mac knew she still worked her farm, making her looks deceptive. Her eight-two years of life were etched across her face, but her eyes, where one might expect to find a lifetime's worth of pain echoed, sparkled in the darkness, alight with a zest for living. Her shoulder-length light gray hair, almost silver in color, was simply pushed back off her face, tucked behind her ears, the simple styling probably ideal on the farm. But despite the physical differences, there was just something in the other woman – her bearing, the caring in her voice, her essence – which reminded Mac of her best friend, staunchest supporter and husband. "You sound like Harm," she marveled.

"And he wouldn't want you to be alone right now," Sarah said confidently. "I was passing by the main desk outside the surgical ward when a nurse called down from the nursery, said you had been there and had gone outside for some air. I thought you could use a friendly ear right now."

Mac turned to look at her, studying her expression. She could find nothing that even hinted at censure. "Even after everything …." she began, only to be interrupted.

"Regardless of how it came about," Sarah replied insistently, "you are a part of this family. We take care of our own. Why else would Harm go through everything he did to find out his father's fate, or consider resigning his commission to go after his brother? I know Harm's always considered you family, even before it was official. He's told me about some of the things you've been through. He doesn't brag about it, but he has been there for you a lot from what I've gathered. Let me repay some of that."

Mac wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't used to support so easily given, even from people she knew. Coming from someone who was virtually a stranger, despite their family ties, felt alien to her. Or maybe it was because those family ties were so new and so unexpected. "Mac," Sarah said, placing a gentle hand over Mac's tightly clasped ones, "I have been there before. I'm not that old that I don't remember that spring day when the dark sedan pulled up in front of the house as I was hanging the wash, Harm, Sr. playing with the family dog at my feet. Or the day Trish got a similar visit, although she didn't have the finality of knowing that her husband was confirmed dead. But the worst, I think, was the day when it wasn't a dark sedan with men in uniforms."

"One afternoon, Trish and Frank simply showed up on my front porch," she continued, looking off into the distance as the memories replayed in her mind. She could still see everything as if it had happened yesterday. She even remembered that she'd been wearing a thick blue wool sweater Harm had gotten her for Christmas two years earlier. She loved the bracing cold of the winter, but Harm always worried that she wasn't dressed warmly enough. "It was still winter and neither of them had thought of what to wear before they left San Diego. They were standing on the porch in short sleeved shirts, rubbing their arms and shivering. I had this feeling, even before they said a word, that something had happened. The entire flight to Germany, I kept telling myself that he had to be okay. I figured that I would know if something had happened to him. He was the only living link I had to my husband and my son, or so I thought at the time."

"I had this dream," Mac said haltingly, for the first time acknowledging the apparently link between her dream and Harm's accident. "It started a little over a week ago. Harm was there and so was Mic." She stopped, not wanting to relieve the details of the dream …. or had it been a vision? Had some cosmic force been warning her that if things continued on the path they were on that dire consequences would be inevitable? She'd been the one who had been responsible for bringing Mic back into their lives with her ill-considered decision in Sydney. If she'd been stronger then ….

"And for some reason," Sarah broke into her thoughts in a firm voice, "this happened because Mr. Brumby was a presence in your life, a presence you allowed? Is that what you're thinking? Rubbish." Mac looked startled at the vehemence in the older woman's voice. "Harm is a pilot. Even if you two had been together, even if Mr. Brumby wasn't even in the picture, would Harm still have been out on that carrier?"

"That's not the point," she protested weakly, while silently acknowledging the truth of the statement. Harm's quals happened on a regular schedule. Even if she hadn't been planning to get married, Harm would have gone out to the carrier sometime around now. In her head, she knew that her planned wedding had absolutely nothing to do with it. But in examining the train wreck which had become her life, it was so easy to draw the line from Sydney, to her moving the ring, to her engagement party, to their night in Norfolk and finally to Harm's quals. "If it wasn't for me, Harm wouldn't have been in such a hurry to get back. He loves carrier life. I've never known him to give up the chance to spend time on one." She turned away, struggling against tears.

"And has it not occurred to you," Sarah asked gently, placing a weathered hand on Mac's shoulder, "that he loves you more than he's loved anything in his life, even flying his beloved Tomcats?"

"But he left," Mac said softly, her face etched with pain. "Two years ago, he left everything to chase that dream. I now know that he loves me, but …."

"But he did come back," Sarah countered. "If you asked Harm, I wonder what reasons he would give for why he came back? Maybe he'd been out of the game too long or maybe he really did miss being a lawyer more than he thought he would. Those were the reasons he vocalized, anyway. But what if you were part of the reason, a major part of it?"

Mac turned around and stared at her as if she'd suddenly grown another head. "Did he tell you that?" she asked shakily. "Because …."

Sarah shook her head. "You know Harm well enough to know that there are some things he just does not talk about," she said. "He's been hurt so much in his life and he's very much one to bottle it all up inside. But I've become quite the expert in reading between the lines when it comes to him. And if you think about it, you've developed quite an expertise in that skill yourself, I'm sure."

"I thought I did," she whispered sadly. "But after everything that's happened …."

"I don't know how everything played out," Sarah said, "but when Harm left the carrier, did he think you were still going to be marrying Mr. Brumby?"

"No," she said quickly. "He called me just before he left the carrier and I told him that I had decided not to marry Mic. Our own wedding was a surprise, but we were already at this place where we were going to give 'us' a chance."

"Then how can this be your fault?" Sarah pointed out. "And if you think about it, I think you know that even if you had still been planning to marry another man, he wouldn't have rushed back just to stop the wedding. It would have been one of the hardest things he's ever done in his life, but he would have sat in the church and watched you pledge your life to another man. If he thought that was what you wanted and what would make you happy, he would never have interfered."

"I know," Mac sighed. "Even after we …. " She trailed off, unable to tell Harm's grandmother that she'd slept with him when she'd still been promised to another, then continued with a barely detectible tremor. "He said that it was my choice, that he wasn't going to pressure me in any way. Even if I broke his heart in the process, he was going to stand by me and my decision." Her eyes widened, glistening with unshed tears. "That's more than I ever did for him when he became an active pilot again. All I could think about was how much what he was doing was hurting me. I never even considered about how much he wanted it."

Sarah put her arms around Mac and pulled her into her arms. She resisted a moment, and then wearily laid her head on Sarah's shoulder. She was so cold and tired and Sarah's arms were so warm and comforting. She let the older woman's soft, rich tone lull her into a few precious moments of peacefulness. "Love doesn't keep score like that," Sarah insisted. "If any of us truly were one hundred percent deserving, everyone would be alone. You've made mistakes, but so has Harm."

"But …."

Sarah laughed. "I may love my grandson more than anyone else," she explained, "but I'm not blind to his faults. Remember when I said he doesn't talk about some things? It may be a defense mechanism for him, but it means those around him have to work harder to dig down and see the real Harm. I'm sure there have been plenty of opportunities when he could have said something over the last year or two or even before that. You're not a mind reader and had no way of knowing just how deeply Harm was hurting because of your relationship with Mr. Brumby. But regardless, you probably understand better than just about anyone what he's all about just from what the two of you have been through together. You've seen how much his father's fate has affected him. You know the pain that Diane's unsolved murder caused. You know how much he'd do to protect his brother. And if you'll just admit it, you know how much he has loved you, even if he sometimes has a problem saying the words."

"I know," she admitted softly. "No one, except maybe my uncle, has done so much for me."

"And the reverse is true as well," Sarah said in a knowing tone. "Harm has told me that much."

Mac closed her eyes with a sigh. It felt good knowing that there was someone on her side – on her and Harm's side. A tentative smile graced her features. She could see just how much of an influence Sarah had on her grandson. It was because of her that he was the wonderful man he was, she suspected, perhaps even more than his mother. Maybe because she'd been for so long his only blood link to his beloved father. "Thank you, Mrs. Rabb," she whispered.

Sarah dropped a kiss on top of Mac's head, realizing how hard those words were for Mac to say. She knew from what Harm had told her that the very people who should have been there for Mac had been the ones who had hurt her the most. Gratitude was not an emotion which came easily to the younger Sarah Rabb, she knew. "What's with this 'Mrs. Rabb' stuff?" she chided Mac gently. "You're my granddaughter now. Harm calls me 'Gram'."

"Alright …. Gram," Mac said tentatively.

They sat together on the bench for a few minutes, Sarah noticing a little bit of the tension easing from Mac as she rested her head against Sarah's shoulder, Sarah gently stroking her hair. Eventually, Mac lifted her head, slowly pulling out of Sarah's arms. She pushed her hair back off her face, showing puzzlement at the surprised look on Sarah's face. "What is it?" she asked.

Sarah hesitated a moment, then shook her head. "It's nothing," she said. She was worried at the apparently lack of emotion from Mac, but she didn't know her well enough yet to know how she would deal with something like this. Perhaps she was one who shed her tears in solitude. Sarah could understand that, after a lifetime spent being the strong one, for her son, then her daughter-in-law and grandson. "Would you mind accompanying me back inside? These old bones just can't tolerate the cold like they used to."

Under other circumstances, Mac might have laughed. While she'd pulled her jacket tighter around her to ward off the chill in the air, Sarah looked utterly comfortable with her jacket unbuttoned and open. But she couldn't call the other woman on her deception. On the other hand, she wasn't sure she was ready to go back inside and face everyone.

"Don't worry about Mr. Brumby and Ms. Peterson," Sarah said, sensing the direction of her thoughts. "There will be time enough to deal with all that later, when Harm is better. Nothing else matters right now."

"Somehow, I have a hard time believing they will see it that way," Mac said wryly.

"Doesn't matter," Sarah replied firmly. "They'll have to get through me first. Plus, I got the impression that your Admiral Chegwidden won't put up with any nonsense from those two either. Anyway, it shouldn't be too much longer before Harm's out of surgery and I know you'll want to see him as soon as he's allowed visitors."

Sarah started to stand, intent on taking Mac back inside, stopping when she felt Mac's hand on her arm. "Um, Gram …." she began hesitantly, her thoughts drifting back to an earlier question. "What was it like? When you saw Harm after his earlier accident, I mean."

She sat back down, clasping Mac's hand in hers as she gathered her thoughts. She didn't think that anything she could say would completely prepare Mac, but perhaps she could soften the blow a bit by preparing her to expect anything. "The whole way to Germany," she began quietly, her voice trembling slightly at the memory, "I tried to tell myself that as long as he was alive, I could handle anything I would see, but nothing prepares you. Harm has always been so active and vibrant, but seeing him lying in a hospital bed, so pale …. To this day, I can't tell you what all the machines he was hooked up to did or what was being carried into his body in all the tubes. Honestly, except for the machines and the IVs and the paleness of his face, you couldn't really tell he was injured. Except for a lot of bruises and some broken ribs, most of his major injuries were to his back and legs and were covered by the bedding. Looking at him lying in that bed, you might have thought he was just sleeping. But I knew he wasn't and I just remember that it felt like someone had punched me in the gut. That's the only way I can describe it."

Mac nodded, the words caught in her throat. She'd had an idea what to expect, knew it would probably be bad, but to hear it put in such stark terms …. then again, how much worse could it be than what she'd seen on the ship when he'd been unable to control his body, when he'd been unable to draw breath into his lungs? She rubbed the palm of her free hand against her pant leg as she took a slow deep breath. She would deal with it. She had to be strong for Harm.

She stood and offered Sarah a hand getting up, more out of politeness than any thought that the other woman needed it. Sarah might be several inches shorter than her, something which struck Mac now that they were standing side-by-side, and might look like she might blow away in a strong wind, but Mac could see in her clear blue eyes that her spine was made of steel. It occurred to her that the elder Sarah Rabb was the lynchpin which held the family together. After all, hadn't she been the one Harm had turned to after his first crash, then one he'd always turned to?

Suddenly, she realized Sarah had been saying something. "I'm sorry, Mrs.," she began, stopping as she saw Sarah's admonishing look. "I mean, Gram. What were you saying?"

"I was wondering if stopping by the nursery had helped any," Sarah repeated as they started walking towards the hospital entrance. Mac turned to her, startled. "Remember, I was walking by when that nurse called down from the nursery and she said you'd been there then had gone outside for some air. Anyway, I know there's a lot of short term issues to deal with right now, but sometimes it helps to think about the long term. Reminds us what we're fighting for."

"But Harm's the one who has to do most of the fighting," Mac pointed out, a note of frustration creeping into her voice. "I feel so …."

"Helpless?" Sarah asked gently when Mac didn't finish. She took the ensuing silence as confirmation. "I suppose being in the military, the Marines especially, that you're used to taking action, not sitting back and waiting for something to happen. But don't think that you can't help him fight. When Harm was still unconscious after his first crash, a counselor stopped by to talk to us. She suggested that we talk to Harm. Evidence has shown that kind of thing registers somehow with people."

"Father Gilly said the same thing," Mac said, "on the helo on the way here. He said he worked in a VA hospital after he first joined the Navy and that he spent a lot of time with patients in comas, just talking to them."

"Mac, this may sound a bit hokey," Sarah continued, "but have you heard about how some people who are near death talk about a white light and something pulling them towards it?" Mac nodded reluctantly, not sure where she was going with this apparently morbid subject. She didn't want to think about Harm seeing white lights and being pulled towards anywhere that wasn't back to her. "You be the anchor – pardon the naval metaphor – that holds Harm here. Talk to him about your future. Tell him about your future children …."

In spite of her mood, Mac couldn't help the chuckle that escaped at Sarah's earnest tone. "Is that supposed to be a hint?" she asked, even managing to inject a bit of teasing into her voice.

"I'm not getting any younger," Sarah said determinedly, "and not counting Sergei, since I wasn't around when he was born, it's been almost thirty-eight years since a baby was born into this family. It's about time, don't you think? Of course, it will be a while before Harm's in any condition for the actual making of the baby."

This time, Mac did laugh as an image crossed her mind of her playing 'nurse' for Harm. She leaned against the wall as they waited for the elevator. "Gram, how is it that you know just what to say to make a person feel better?" she asked.

"Harm says it's my gift," she replied, imagining just what had caused the outburst of laughter. She wasn't that old, regardless of what the calendar said. Just because her husband had died almost sixty years earlier didn't mean she hadn't loved since then. "But I just hate to see the people I love hurting." At Mac's shocked look, she smiled. "Dear, my grandson loves you and that's enough for me. From what I've learned about you, not just in listening to him talk about you but in talking to you now, I know you're good for him. You understand him, better than most people. And regardless of the problems the two of you may have gone through when he went back to flying, I think you realize now that is part of what makes him who he is and you wouldn't try to change him."

"You can say I learned that one the hard way," she muttered under her breath. His quals were a case in point. When he'd told her that he had to go out to a carrier and might miss the wedding, it had crossed her mind to be upset. But between knowing that it was something he had to do and that he would do everything to keep his promise to return in time for the wedding, she'd accepted it. But if this had all happened two years ago, when she'd felt so threatened by his love of flying, she probably would not have handled it well at all. Just look at the downward spiral which had started when he told her that he was returning to active flight status.

Mac was silent as they stepped onto the elevator and Sarah decided not to push her luck any further. She was confident Mac knew she had her support. There would be time later to pick up this topic again.

As the elevator doors opened to the third floor, Mac squared her shoulders, mentally preparing herself for what she might face, while Sarah squeezed her hand encouragingly. As they passed the central desk, a nurse smiled encouragingly at them, with both women took as a sign that all was still going as well as could be expected.

Mac could feel the silence in the room as she pushed open the door to the waiting room. Mac studiously ignored the pointed stares as she and Sarah took seats on one of the couches as people shifted around to make room for them. She risked a glance at Mic out of the corner of her eye and found herself unable to read his expression. Maybe she could do this, wait until later to deal with all this. Maybe everyone would let her wait.

Chloe, who had vacated her seat on the couch, settled in front of the couch, resting her head on Mac's thigh. "There hasn't been an update since before you left," she whispered, stifling a yawn. "But it should be almost over, right?"

Mac nodded as she stroked her sister's hair. "Yeah," she replied, her voice barely there. "It should be almost over."

"We were starting a prayer service," Father Gilly told her. Mac glanced around, finally noticing that most of the room's occupants were holding hands. One hand still being clasped by Sarah, she was startled when she felt a light pressure on her other hand and looked up into Frank's warm eyes. Tentatively, she curled her fingers around his, sensing nothing but support from the stranger who was now her father-in-law.

Gilly opened his Bible to the page he'd bookmarked, but before he could start speaking, the door opened again. Everyone tensed at the sight of the same nurse who had updated them earlier, expressions ranging from worried to cautiously hopeful. "I'm looking for Admiral Chegwidden," she announced, faces falling as everyone realized there was no news.

A.J. stood and walked across the room to the door. "There's a phone call for you, Sir," the nurse said. "You can take it at the main desk."

Puzzled, A.J. followed her out of the room, wondering who would be calling him there. Just about everyone who might have had reason to contact him was in the room he'd just left. Suddenly, he was struck with the hope that it wasn't the SECNAV. This investigation was going to be hard enough without a career politician who had no love for 'Harmful' Rabb injecting himself into it. With a sigh, he picked up the phone, punching the flashing button. "Admiral Chegwidden," he said.

"A.J.," a voice he recognized all too well said. A.J. groaned. Clay was probably the next to last person he wanted to speak to right now. He was not in the mood for the agent's usual games.

"What is it, Webb?" A.J. said, exasperated.

Clay recognized the tone and at another time, he might have taken delight in needling A.J.. But he knew that this was not that time. "I have news from Russia," he said calmly. "Sergei Zhukov is on his way to Moscow with one of my agents. I've already got the paperwork in order to get him into the US. We should be touching down in New York in about eleven hours, and then I've got a jet standing by to fly us to Norfolk."

"Rabb's brother has been released?" A.J. asked.

"I managed to broker a deal with the Chechens," Clay said. "Look, the details aren't important right now. I just wanted to get an update on Rabb's condition so I'd have something to tell Sergei when he gets here."

"He's still in surgery," he replied, deciding he was better off not knowing right now just what the deal to get Sergei released entailed, as long as it wasn't something illegal which might affect Sergei's immigrant status. Worrying about whether his brother would be allowed to remain in the US was the last thing Harm needed. "We haven't been updated in a while, but the last time they said anything, the surgery was about half over but appeared to be going well."

"I guess it's not much," Clay said, "but it does give me something to tell him. How's Mac taking this?"

"How do you think, Webb?" he countered. "She's trying to hold everything together like she always does."

"I can imagine," he suggested, "worrying about Rabb on top of having to postpone her wedding."

A.J. chuckled. God knew it wasn't really funny, but he could use a laugh right about now. "I guess you don't know everything, Webb," A.J. couldn't resist poking at the other man just a little. He needed something to break the tension. "The wedding is cancelled, not just postponed."

"Cancelled?" Clay asked, stunned. "Just because Rabb took a dip in the Atlantic?"

"Nope," A.J. said. "Cancelled because she married Rabb."

"A.J., when was the last time you got any sleep?" Clay asked suspiciously. The other man had to have gone around the bend. That was the only explanation.

"Webb, Harm and Mac are married," A.J. repeated, not offering any more details. "Just tell Sergeant Zhukov that his brother is holding on. I'm sure his presence will give Rabb even more reason to hang on."

"Okay," Clay said, although he had a lot more questions. He doubted A.J. would answer any of them. "I'll call once we reach New York and let you know our ETA in Norfolk."

After they hung up, A.J. leaned against the counter, contemplating. What was already a tense family situation was about to get even more so. He didn't know all the details, but he'd heard something to the effect that things had been a little tense between Harm and his mother right around the time the news about Sergei had become public knowledge. "Nurse," he said, turning to the nurse who had informed him of Clay's call, "can you ask Colonel MacKenzie to join me out here?"

"Colonel MacKenzie?" she asked, confused.

A.J. realized his mistake. "Sorry," he said, "Colonel Rabb."

Nodding, she took off to do as he asked, returning a moment later with a worried Mac. "Admiral, is it something about Harm?" she asked, her words coming out in a rush. "Have you heard something about the investigation? I saw something on the news earlier …."

"Mac, this isn't about Harm's crash," he assured her, holding up his hand to stop her. "At least not directly. That was Webb on the phone. Sergei Zhukov has been released. He should be arriving in Moscow shortly and then will be on a flight to New York. He should be here in Norfolk …." He glanced at his watch, quickly calculating. "Sometime early this evening, likely. Which brings me to why I asked you out here."

She understood immediately. "You're wondering how Harm's family will react to having him here," she concluded. "Of course, Gram would be thrilled. He's her grandson, too. Trish, I'm not so sure about. I know Harm indicated that she didn't take the news of his existence too well. But what Gram said is right. Harm is what is important here. Sergei being here will be good for Harm. I think from that perspective, Trish will handle it. Later, there probably will be issues to be resolved, but honestly, Sir, they're just not that important right now. Harm is what's important and having his brother here can only help him."

"I agree with that," he said, noting the family nickname she used for Harm's grandmother. Perhaps Sarah going outside to find Mac had been a good thing. He suspected Mac needed all the support she could get, although she would probably never admit it. He also suspected that she was talking about more than Sergei when she spoke of issues to be resolved later.

"Sir," she continued, "I do think we should probably tell them now. At least that would give everyone all of today to come to terms with it, I guess."

"Probably a good idea," he concurred. "I would like you to be with me when I tell them."

"Sir," she protested, shaking her head, "I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I just met them and …."

"Mac," A.J. cut her off, "you've met Sergei and would be in a better position than I would to answer any questions they might have about him."

Mac sighed, nodding in acquiescence. She was at least thankful that he hadn't thrown in the fact that they were technically her family. Except for Sarah, she wasn't really sure where she stood with them. Frank had seemed friendly when she and Sarah had rejoined everyone, perhaps because he knew what it was like to be the interloper, but Trish was still an unknown quantity and that bothered Mac. She'd learned a long time ago that it wasn't worth the heartache to try to please her parents, but for some reason she couldn't quite pinpoint, what Harm's family thought mattered to her a lot.

A.J. left her standing by the counter, returning after a moment which the rest of Harm's family. Not giving them a chance question what was going on, he immediately launched into an explanation. "I just got a call from a friend of Harm's," he told them. "He informed me that Sergei Zhukov has been released by the Chechens and is on his way to the US. He should be here sometime this evening."

"Thank God," Sarah gasped, her eyes filling with tears. Impulsively, Mac gave her a hug.

Trish looked shell-shocked, but her voice was calm when she said, "I'm sure Harm will be happy to see his brother and I know Mom has wanted to meet her other grandson." Frank put a comforting hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently.

"I thought you should know now," A.J. said, sensing that they needed to be alone to deal with this latest news. He headed back for the waiting room, leaving them standing in the hallway. After a moment's heavy silence, Sarah reached out and took Trish's hand in hers.

"It will be okay, Trish," she assured her.

Trish nodded hesitantly. "I know," she said softly. "This is what Harm wants and what you want, Mom."

"Trish," Sarah gently admonished her, "that doesn't mean I'm not worried about how you will deal with this. We talked after Harm told you about Sergei, remember?"

"Mom, I'll be fine," Trish said, her voice firmer. After the fact, she'd felt bad about unburdening herself to Sarah when the other woman was worried about her grandson in a prison camp half a world away. She wasn't about to go down that road again. "As I'm sure you would say, Harm is the important thing right now and having his brother here could only encourage him, right? I'm sure he's a nice kid. Mac, you've met him, haven't you?"

It took Mac a moment to realize that Trish had spoken to her. "Yes, I met him in Russia," she confirmed. "He is a good kid. He reminded me a lot of Harm, except …." She stopped, not quite sure how to put it into words.

"Except what?" Sarah encouraged her.

Mac shrugged. "I guess the only way I can explain it is that he hasn't lived with the uncertainty Harm has," she explained. "He's known his entire life that his father is dead. He hasn't had his career ripped from him the way Harm did and had to start over."

"Trish, it will be okay," Frank interjected. "No matter what our differences, all of us just want one thing and that is for Harm to get better. We do have common ground in that."

"You're right, darling," she conceded. She looked at Mac. "We're all here because we love Harm. He's the most important thing right now."

Mac forced herself to meet her mother-in-law's gaze, her nervousness increasing. She sensed the hesitancy in her tone. Perhaps she was just imagining things. It could just be meeting her husband's other son which had Trish worried.

She was about to suggest they return to the waiting room when she caught sight of two figures decked out in scrubs coming down the hall and hands clenched into fists at her side. Trish noticed the change in Mac's expression and turned, her fingers tightening around Sarah's when she saw the doctors heading their way.

"Dr. Stafford, Dr. Reed," Mac greeted them, surprised that she could make the words come out past her heart which was stuck in her throat. She gestured around the group, making introductions. "These are my in-laws, Trish and Frank Burnett and Harm's grandmother, Sarah Rabb. Everyone, Dr. Stafford is the neurosurgeon who operated on Harm. And you all spoke to Dr. Reed earlier, when we were on the carrier."

"He came out of the surgery okay?" Trish asked.

"He's being moved into ICU as we speak," Stafford confirmed. "The surgery went as well as can be expected. Despite the delay in treatment, we were able to stop the bleeding before it spread too much. Now, it's just a waiting game. We'll closely monitor him to make sure there isn't any swelling or a recurrence of the bleeding. It's hard to say as these things can be tricky, but we're cautiously optimistic right now."

There were audible sighs of relief from all those assembled. "When will he be allowed visitors, Doctor?" Frank asked.

"It will take about a half hour to get him settled in ICU," Stafford replied. "For now, his condition is still critical, so we will limit his visitors to family only, two at a time for fifteen minutes each. You can give a list of the family members to the nurse in ICU so that they know who's allowed to go in. We will keep him sedated for a while to facilitate the healing process, so after all of you have visited him once, I recommend you go get some rest. The VOQ has rooms set aside for the families of patients. If his vitals stay stable, we probably will bring him out of sedation later this afternoon. That will give you a few a few hours sleep at least."

"Thank you, Doctor," Sarah said for all of them.

-----

To be continued….


	7. Chapter 7

Mac felt her knees start to give out and she stumbled blindly towards a row of chairs across from the nurse's desk. Sarah seemingly materialized at her side, guiding her into a seat with a hand on Mac's elbow. "I'm okay," Mac insisted, but she didn't shake off the assistance.

"Of course you are, dear," Sarah said in a comforting tone. She knew enough about Mac from her grandson to realize that she wouldn't want an issue made of her emotional reaction to the doctor's news. Although whether that was due to her past or being in the military, Sarah wasn't sure. Maybe a little of both, for she'd seen the same behavior often enough in Harm. "The lack of sleep is probably just catching up with you. God knows we'll all be able to use the sleep after we see Harm. Trish? Frank?"

Trish sat heavily in another chair, Frank hovering protectively over her shoulder. "It's different this time," Trish said, her tone distant. "By the time we arrived in Germany the last time this happened, Harm was already out of surgery. I don't know. Maybe it was easier to wait then because we were on a plane that was taking us to him, not sitting in waiting room, watching time move so slowly, knowing that Harm was just yards away."

"You'll be able to see him soon," Frank said reassuringly. Trish reached up and clasped his hand over her shoulder. "You and Mac should go in and see him first, and then Sarah and I can go in…."

"Maybe Gram should go in first," Mac protested without much conviction. She desperately needed to see Harm, to see for herself that he was alive. She couldn't shake the image out of her mind of the violent spasms when he'd seized on the carrier. But she couldn't put herself ahead of Harm's family, not when everything was so uncertain, when she was so unsure of where she stood with them. "She's…."

"Nonsense," Sarah said firmly. "You're Harm's wife. I can wait a few more minutes to see him." She shook her head resolutely as Mac opened her mouth to protest. "An additional fifteen minutes isn't going to make a difference for me. You need to see your husband and that's the end of that."

"Perhaps we should go back into the waiting room and let everyone know the news," Trish interjected. "There are a lot of people who came a long way because they were worried about Harm."

"Good idea," Frank added with a wary glance at his wife. Although she was correct, there was something just a little off about her tone. "All of Harm's friends are worried about him. Sarah, why don't you and Mac go do that?"

Mac was about to say something, but Sarah shook her head almost imperceptibly. "We'll do that," Sarah agreed. She motioned to Mac, who reluctantly stood with her. "You'll join us in a few minutes?"

Frank nodded, smiling to put the women at ease. "We'll be there in a minute," he promised. "I just need to talk to Trish for a second."

Trish and Frank were silent until the two women had gone back into the waiting room, then Trish turned to her husband, her arms folded across her chest. "What, Frank?" she said, her tone just short of a demand. She knew from experience that when he wanted to speak to her alone like that, she wasn't likely to appreciate what he had to say.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on with you and Mac?" Frank asked gently as he sat in the chair Mac had vacated. Under other circumstances, he might have been amused. Her tone and posture were so reminiscent of her son. He might be his father's twin in looks, but a large portion of Harm's personality came straight from his mother. Or maybe it was Trish's stubbornness that came from Harm. After all, she'd had to match him in the ongoing effort to keep him somewhat in line during his teen years.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said defensively.

"Trish …." he said with a sigh. There was a lot he wanted to say, but now wasn't the time to risk a disagreement – or worse – with his wife. Her mood was so mercurial right now, and to a degree that was understandable. No parent should go through what she was going through even once, let alone twice. But to give Mac the cold shoulder – he couldn't understand that, especially since she'd been cordial up until Mac announced her and Harm's marriage. Keeping in mind her frame of mind, he decided to take a slightly different tact. "She loves our son."

"So does Renee," she reminded him.

"I suppose," he admitted. "You've met her before, not me. But Harm didn't marry Renee. Tell me, have you ever known him to do something this important that he didn't absolutely believe in one hundred percent?"

Trish sighed heavily without answering. He did have a point. But how could she explain to him what she couldn't quite explain to herself? Who could explain the instinctive knowledge of a mother? Frank wasn't a mother …. couldn't understand the intuition that came along with the title. She'd carried Harm in her body for nine months and then had nurtured him for seventeen years. She'd spent a lifetime loving him and worrying about him. She knew when her baby was happy.

And she knew when he was sad, like after Australia. He'd dropped by the house a couple of months after that trip while in San Diego on a case and, when apologizing for sending her birthday present late, had mentioned that he'd been in Australia on a case at the time.

He'd told her about the case of the American sailor killing an Australian sailor then adopting his identity for twenty-eight years, but Trish could sense immediately that there was something about the trip to Australia that he didn't want to talk about. Knowing that there was a time to push her son and a time to just back away, she'd changed the subject by innocently asking how Mac was doing, by then a standard question whenever she spoke to her son.

His response had been stunning. There had been no indulgent shake of his head, no exasperated 'Mom!' despite the sparkle in his eyes and the grin that spoke of his real feelings, as was his normal response. He'd abruptly changed the subject, asking her about how the gallery was doing, as if she hadn't even asked the question. But what was even more surprising than his sudden topic switch had been the flash of pain in his eyes before a mask of indifference had fallen over his expression, so brief that she almost thought she'd imagined it, yet so stark that it broke her mother's heart.

She'd tried a couple more times during the visit to bring up Mac's name, only to be rebuffed each time. She'd even thought about asking Sarah – Trish had reconciled herself long ago to Harm's tendency to confide in his grandmother before her - if Harm had said anything to her, but had quickly banished the thought. She'd always known that Sarah would never break a confidence. She would never risk Harm's trust like that.

Trish still didn't know what had happened in Australia, although the fact that Mac's fiancé – _ex-_fiancé, she reminded herself – was Australian and the fact that Harm had never mentioned her upcoming wedding seemed to be strong indicators. But whatever had happened, she knew without a doubt that Mac had hurt her son …. badly. How could she just forget about that?

Frank could see in her eyes the battle being waged within. Carefully considering his words, he took her hand in his, gently massaging her chilled fingers. "Trish," he finally said, "you aren't thinking about what he said, or rather didn't say, a year ago when he visited us, are you? We don't know what happened …."

"I know my baby was hurt," she insisted, with the indignation that only a mother could muster, "badly. And it's not that hard to figure out that Mac has something to do with that."

He knew that there were two sides to every story. Maybe Mac had done something, whether intentional or not, which had caused the deep pain Trish had seen at the time, which she'd told him about later when suggesting he try to get Harm to open up to him, man to man. But that wasn't necessarily the entire story. He loved Harm as much as if he'd been biologically his, but he wasn't blind to the fact that Harm was too good at hurting those closest to him - often blindly unaware, although sometimes uncaring of the pain he was inflicting on others. If Mac had hurt Harm, it was entirely possible that Harm had done something to hurt her, whether as cause or consequence of what Mac had done.

"Yes," he admitted, "Harm was hurt by something …." Trish started at that, but he silenced her unspoken objection with a look. "…. or someone. But we need to trust that Harm knows what he's doing …."

"But how do we know that?" she countered stridently. "My God, Frank. Harm nearly died tonight. How do we know that he was really thinking about what he was doing? This is all happening so fast. She was supposed to marry someone else up until yesterday!"

"Patricia Burnett, stop right there!" He said, his voice rising. Taking a deep breath, he continued on in a calmer tone. "There is one thing that we do know. Do you remember earlier when you asked Mac if she loved Harm? Do you doubt that she was being completely honest? She traveled out to a carrier to be at his side. For me, that speaks louder than what may or may not have happened between them over a year ago. Can you try to focus on what the two of you have in common? You both love Harm and would do anything for him. And Harm loves both of you …. "

Again, Trish looked like she wanted to argue, but he shook his head. "Now, don't argue about that, Trish. We've both suspected for years that Harm loves her as more than just his best friend. Anyway, we all need to pull together, to be there for each other and for Harm. It is not going to help Harm to see that there are issues between his wife and mother."

Trish sighed, closing her eyes. He was right about one thing. It would do no good for Harm to see tension between Mac and herself. She would not do anything to hurt him, she promised herself. Opening her eyes, she nodded slowly. "I'll try," she conceded, " …. for Harm."

Inwardly, Frank sighed with relief. "That's all I ask," he said, placing his arm across her shoulders and pulling her against him.

She relaxed in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Harm was the most important thing and she would try to keep in mind what was best for him. But knowing what was right for Harm in her head and in her heart could turn out being two very different things.

-----

When Mac and Sarah entered the waiting room, it was as if a switch had been thrown. All conversation suddenly stopped and all eyes, except for those of the sleeping baby AJ, turned to the two women. _I'm a Marine_, Mac told herself as Sarah's hand found hers, Sarah's fingers tightening around hers comfortingly. _I can handle this._ Regardless, she managed not to focus on any one face, her gaze darting over everyone's heads. She could feel the eyes on her, hear the unspoken questions, but now was not the time. She couldn't deal with it right now, had to focus exclusively on Harm.

"Dr. Stafford just stopped to talk to us in the hall," Mac said in a calm tone that belied the tension she coiled deep inside. "Harm is out of surgery and is doing as well as can be expected."

"What exactly does that mean?" Renee demanded. Even if she'd given even a moment's thought to being pragmatic about losing Harm, over twenty-four hours without sleep was more than enough to unbridle her tongue. "When can I see him?"

"Just what it sounds like," Sarah answered evenly. She could easily dismiss her behavior after so long without sleep. They were all tired and even the most levelheaded person could be sharper than intended under those circumstances. She just wished she had confidence that Renee was more personable when fully rested and that she wouldn't cause any problems. "The doctors are optimistic but he's not out of the woods yet. He's being closely monitored for any further problems."

She quickly latched onto the fact that Sarah had completely ignored her second question. _So that's the way that particular wind is blowing_, she thought. _She's already playing Mac's protector._ "So when can I see him?" she repeated.

Giving Mac's hand a quick squeeze as a signal – Sarah knew the temptation to say something must be overwhelming for her – she answered, "Not for a while, Ms. Peterson. I'm sorry, but the doctor is only allowing family in for now, at least until Harm's condition improves. He's probably going to remain under sedation for most of today, anyway."

The knowledge that Harm wouldn't even be waking up for hours was little consolation for Renee. She needed to see him. Didn't the year and a half she'd spent with him count for anything? To be shunted aside while Mac, who just a day ago had been to marry another man, took her place at his side was galling. She stood and took a step towards the two women, her eyes blazing. "I'll be damned if…."

"Thank you, Mrs. Rabb," A.J. said quickly, cutting off the protest he knew was coming from Renee. Realistically, even if Mac wasn't there, Renee wasn't likely to be allowed in to see Harm anyway, but having to sit back while Mac was allowed in had to be infuriating to her, he realized. It wasn't her fault she'd gotten caught in the middle of the storm of Harm and Mac's lives. Unlike Mic, she probably hadn't even realized what she was walking into the middle of. He buried the pang of sympathy he felt towards her. She likely would find such a sentiment suspect, coming from someone so …. close to Harm and Mac. "I suppose the rest of us should see about getting rooms somewhere and get some sleep. Most of us do have to be back at JAG tomorrow."

"Sir," Bud corrected him, "actually, tomorrow is Memorial Day."

"So it is, Mr. Roberts," A.J. said, chuckling with little mirth. He was more tired than he cared to admit to anyone, even himself. Gone were the days when he could go without sleep for several days and still be raring to go. "Well, then most of us don't have to be back at JAG until Tuesday. Tiner, Gunny, check with the nurses' desk, get numbers for some hotels in the area and start calling around. Check with billeting first, although I doubt they can accommodate us all and those that aren't military can't stay there anyway, except for Harm's immediate family. Just make sure any hotel is aware that we need rooms immediately and not in several hours after checkout time."

"Aye, Sir," Victor answered for both of them, heading out with Jason on his heels. They nearly ran into Trish and Frank entering the room.

"Excuse us, Sir, Ma'am," Victor apologized, stepping aside to let them enter. "We're on our way to look into hotel rooms for everyone."

"That isn't necessary for us," Frank said. "We were stopped on our way back in by one of the nurses. They were nice enough to call and arrange for rooms at the VOQ at the shipyard for us, Sarah and Mac."

"Yes, Sir," Victor said as he and Jason left.

Everyone shifted around to make room for the new arrivals, Chloe motioning frantically to Mac and Sarah with her free hand, her other arm supporting baby AJ in her lap. The women settled on the couch on either side of her, Mac lifting AJ from Chloe's arms and settling him on her own lap, her hand absently stroking baby-fine blond hair. AJ stirred, but did not wake up, merely snuggling against his godmother with a quiet sigh.

Mic watched the scene, masking his growing unease. She'd all but ignored his presence since they'd come face-to-face several hours earlier. He was certain that if he could just get her away from there and talk to her, then they could straighten everything out, he could get her to make sense of everything. He glanced at his watch. If all had gone as it should have, they would have been somewhere out over the Pacific Ocean right now, jetting away to Australia for their honeymoon.

But she was being monopolized. At various times, A.J. and Rabb's grandmother had stepped in to keep him away from Mac. He had to be with her, but if he even made a move in her direction, he knew more than one person would jump in to put a stop to it. Frustrated, he couldn't help the sigh that escaped. Quickly glancing around the room, he caught several looks of pity. _I don't want their pity,_ he told himself. _It's not necessary. This will all get straightened out and Sarah will be back with me._

Only Renee had the courage to approach him, perching herself on the arm of the chair he was seated in. "Sickening, isn't it?" she murmured, gesturing vaguely in Mac's direction, where she was holding a quiet conversation with Chloe and Carolyn, who was seated on the other side of her.

"We should have been on our way to Australia right now," he said as Mac smiled sadly at something Carolyn said. Sarah leaned over and said something that brought chuckles to the group huddled together. His stomach clenched in knots at the sight.

"I don't suppose you could grab her and drag her onto a plane, could you?" Renee said, not entirely joking. She and Mic were in the same boat and were going to have to work together to bail out of it. Mic just gave her a stern look and she shook her head. "It was just a thought."

_I wish I could_, he thought. He didn't know what to do. Most of them seemed to be working overtime to protect Mac from him. As if she needed it. He was her fiancé, the man who loved her. He snorted, bringing a puzzled glance from Renee.

"It's nothing," he said. "Just thinking."

"About a way to get your fiancée and my boyfriend back?" she whispered, leaning closer as she glanced around. No one seemed to be paying them much attention.

"Weren't you the one a few hours ago who was ready to accept this as a fait accompli?" he reminded her, his voice just as quiet.

"I said I didn't know what else to do," she countered, "at the time. But the more I think about this, the more determined I am not to let Harm go without a fight. I can't believe that the last year and a half was wasted. I want that man to be my husband, the father of my children …."

"There isn't a possibility that you are, is there?" he asked, his eyes darting to her midsection.

"I wish," she sighed. "But he was always so careful about that. He …. never mind." She didn't really want to talk about the fight she and Harm had not long after his return from Russia and Cuba. She'd prepared …. well, ordered …. a welcome-home dinner from him and had taken the phone off the hook so he wouldn't get any calls ordering him to Mongolia at the last minute. Things had progressed naturally – until Harm had found the box in his nightstand drawer empty and put the brakes on.

She'd tried to convince him that it didn't matter. She had a diaphragm – pills made her feel bloated, so she'd opted for another form of contraception – and besides, it wasn't the right time of the month for her to conceive anyway. But he'd been immovable, saying he wasn't going to put her in that situation. Now, she wondered if what he meant was that he wasn't going to put himself in that position. If he'd always been in love with Mac all along ….

"I don't suppose there's any chance that she's carrying a little Brumby?" she turned the question around, tilting her head in Mac's direction.

"We both want kids," he replied, "but she insisted on waiting until after we were married." He'd accepted the condition at the time, but there had been a tiny part of him that couldn't help hoping for an accident, especially in the days before she'd accepted his proposal. In those frustrating days, he would have welcomed anything that would have tipped the scales in his favor, finally finding it in his former commanding officer's offer of his old job back. If he'd known that would have gotten her to move the ring, he probably would have played the 'moving back to Oz' card months earlier. Ten months was a long time to hang around waiting for her to make a decision.

"But who was it that she wanted kids with?" Renee retorted without thinking. Instantly contrite, she added, "I'm sorry. I just remember a round-about conversation Harm and I once had and I can't help wondering now if it was that he didn't want kids at the time or that he didn't want them with me."

Mic's eyes fell on Mac, whose gaze met his for a brief, uncomfortable moment before she turned away, saying something to Carolyn. She swayed slightly, gently rocking baby AJ in her arms and he remembered another conversation on the topic of kids just recently, just a few days after their engagement party.

They'd been discussing what to pack for their honeymoon and she'd idly mentioned needing to get her birth control prescription refilled before they left. Innocently enough, he'd suggested that since they were going to be married, it was time to throw the pills out and work on starting that family.

In retrospect, what bothered him now wasn't her refusal – maybe he'd been pushing it a bit by suggesting they start working on the family immediately after they were married. Perhaps there was something to be said for time for them before they added another person to the mix. No, what he found striking at this time had been the odd look she'd given him when he'd said it, almost as if it wasn't really him she'd been seeing. What if she hadn't been? "What if she was already involved with him?" he asked himself, not even realizing he'd spoken the words until he noticed Renee looking at him askance for a second before understanding dawned.

"You're thinking if she wanted to wait because of Harm?" she wondered softly.

"I don't think that's a question that is going to get answered now," he pointed out, "if it ever will."

"No," she agreed sadly, "I suppose not."

-----

To be continued….


	8. Chapter 8

SHEREMYETEVO AIRPORT  
MOSCOW, RUSSIA

By the time the taxi pulled up in front of Moscow's airport, Sergei was wound tighter than a spring. It had been a long, cold, noisy flight from Grozny to the Vnukova air field and Alexei, who he'd met when Harm and Mac had been in Chechnya and who Clay had drafted to pick him up, was far too talkative during the ride from the military airfield to the airport. He'd tried to sleep on the flight from Chechnya and after five months in a prisoner of war camp, he would have thought that he could have fallen asleep just about anywhere. But slumber had proved to be an elusive ally in those early morning hours.

Instead, Sergei spent the rest of the night thinking and none of the thoughts swirling in his head were of the comforting variety. Although he'd not known his brother for very long, he thought he could safely say that Harm would not like the lengths to which Clayton Webb had gone to get him released. After stewing over it for about an hour into the flight, Sergei came to an even more troubling conclusion – there was more to the situation than Harm simply being transported to a hospital on land, something which made getting Sergei released imperative. Was his brother dying? Was he being released only to say a final goodbye to Harm?

He had asked Daniel Mason, who had insisted that all he knew was what he'd told Sergei before they left the prison camp, which was that Harm had been transferred off the aircraft carrier. He didn't know why or how serious Harm's condition was. He'd tried to reassure Sergei, saying that if it were really that bad, Clay would have said something.

Sergei had nodded assent and dropped the subject, realizing that he was not going to get anything out of Mason, but he was far from convinced. He wished he knew his brother better. Maybe then he'd be able to feel his presence, to know instinctively that he was going to be okay. As a child, his mother used to tell him that she always knew when something was wrong with him. Maybe if he had more of a connection with Harm ….

Sergei was out of the taxi almost before it had come to a complete stop at the curb, stalking towards a waiting Clay. Inside the cab, Mason shook his head. He knew the young Russian was about to explode and it would probably prove interesting to witness his tête-à-tête with Clay. However amusing, though, it was a confrontation Mason wouldn't get to see. He'd delivered Sergei safely to Moscow and his job was now done. Clay would dismiss him to return to the embassy, possibly knowing that a storm was brewing.

Ignoring Sergei, Clay spoke to Mason and Alexei through an open window in the cab, turning back to Sergei only after passing some money to Alexei. His expression was irritatingly calm as he strode towards the airport entrance, motioning to Sergei to follow him.

"I have everything you'll need to enter the US," he said, pulling a packet out of his inside jacket pocket. "Until we can find some way to prove paternity, you're only eligible for a nonimmigrant tourist visa, but I did get the embassy to approve it for a full ninety days and Ernie McGill is working with INS on smoothing the approval process for your I-94 once we get to New York. After you're in the US, we can start the process of changing your status with INS if you decide to stay. I've also got your passport, courtesy of Major Sokol, and some spending money to hold you over until you're with your family …."

"How bad is my brother's condition?" Sergei demanded, abruptly coming to a stop just inside the entrance to the airport. Grabbing his arm, Clay pulled him out of the crush of people entering and exiting the airport. "He would not approve of what you have done to get me out of prison. You gave them money and weapons? My brother never would have allowed that, which means he is in no condition to say anything."

"I was waiting until we get through checking in for our flight," he explained with patient amusement, purposely ignoring the query about how Sergei's freedom had been bought. Clay didn't really care to explain himself. There was nothing amusing about this situation, but Sergei's expression was so reminiscent of his brother, Clay thought. And his questions – the words were coming out of Sergei's mouth, but he swore to himself that he could hear Harm's voice uttering them. Even if not for his discrete checking into Sergei's story after their adventure in Chechnya, Clay would have sworn that Sergei and Harm were related. They were definitely of one mind about a lot of things. "I have a cell phone and will place a call to your family so you can speak to them directly."

"My family?" Sergei asked, confused. Harm was his family, aside from his mother, and Sergei didn't think he was likely to be in any condition to talk to him. After all, if Harm's condition was not bad, wouldn't Clay have answered his question immediately? Trying to push that morose thought aside, he thought about it a moment, then realized whom Clay must be referring to. "My stepmother?"

He wasn't sure if he was ready for that. Surely, Harm had told his mother about his existence, but that didn't mean that Trish had reconciled herself to it. How did one deal with knowing that the husband you thought was dead was actually living with a woman in another country and fathering her child? He hadn't wanted to ask how she'd taken it and Harm had never volunteered the information.

"Actually, I was thinking of your sister-in-law," Clay said. "Although your grandmother is probably there as well, along with your stepmother."

Sergei stared at him, stunned. His brother was married? He thought back. They'd not had much time to talk when Harm had been in country, when they'd first met, but he did recall Harm saying that he wasn't married. And their meager correspondence prior to his capture, as much as he could recall of it off the top of his head, had delved little into Harm's personal life. Mostly, Harm had talked about work, their grandmother, and the few memories he had of their father. In turn, Sergei wrote of his life growing up on the farm, revealing little of his life in the middle of a war. Not that his brother wouldn't understand, being in the military himself, but his newfound family was something to get his mind off the horrors surrounding him.

Of course, Sergei had been out of contact for five months. He supposed a lot could have changed. i _Maybe it is that lovely Marine Colonel /i _, he thought. Even during their brief acquaintance, he could see how much they cared for each other. And Alexei had told him the story of how Mac had convinced him to drive her to Chechnya in his taxi once she found out Harm was there. "Colonel MacKenzie?" he asked.

Clay just barely resisted the urge to laugh. "You're probably the only person who will not be surprised by that news," he said mysteriously. Before Sergei could ask what he meant by that, he continued, "I did speak to A.J. – your brother's commanding officer, Admiral Chegwidden – a few hours ago. Harm was in surgery at that time, but it seemed to be going well." He glanced at his watch and calculated the time in Virginia. "He should be out of surgery by now."

"Surgery?" he asked, surprised. Never had anything been mentioned about surgery, just that Harm had been taken off the ship and flown back to land. "What kind of surgery?"

"I don't know," Clay replied honestly. After he'd hung up with A.J. earlier, it occurred to him that he should have asked more questions, but he'd been blindsided – not that he would admit to such thing to anyone – by A.J.'s news of Harm and Mac's wedding. Now that he was face to face with a worried brother looking for answers, he admitted to himself just how inadequate his knowledge was. But he sensed it was not good. Why else transport Harm from the carrier for a middle-of-the-night surgical procedure? "I'm sure Mac can fill you in on the details."

Sensing Sergei's next question even as he opened his mouth to ask it, Clay pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and searched through the memory for the last number he'd dialed, the main switchboard at Portsmouth Naval Medical Center. Sergei waited apprehensively as Clay requested connection to the surgical ward.

"This is Clayton Webb again," Clay said into the phone, recognizing the voice on the other end as the nurse who had connected him to A.J. earlier. "I need to speak to Colonel MacKenzie."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Sorry," the nurse apologized after a moment, remembering. "You mean Colonel Rabb. Just a moment, please."

After a minute spent listening to hold music, Mac's familiar warm voice came over the line. "Clay," she said, her tone obviously tired, even over a slightly staticky connection, "you have Sergei with you?"

"Right here," he said before holding the phone out to Sergei. "It's Mac."

Breathing a sigh of relief, he took the offered phone. "Colonel MacKenzie?" he asked a bit hesitantly.

"Hello, Sergei," she replied warmly. "It's good to hear your voice."

Inside Sergei, a dam broke. "Полковник," he began, lapsing into his mother tongue in his anxiety, his tone infused with the tension he'd been under for the last few hours, the words spilling from his mouth in a rush, "Что случилось с моим братом? Мне сказали, что он попал в аварию, и он собирался быть прекрасным, тогда что он был принят от авианосца. Г. Вебб говорит, что он был в операционной, но он не знает для какой. В какой операционной, мой брат нуждался бы в середине ночи?" _Colonel, what happened to my brother? I was told that he had an accident and he was going to be fine, then that he was taken off the aircraft carrier. Mr. Webb says he was in surgery, but he does not know for what. What surgery would my brother need in the middle of the night?_

Sergei was speaking too quickly for even Mac to translate everything he said in her head, but she got the gist of what he was trying to say. She let the questions run their course, sympathetic to his frustration. After five months in a prison camp, the joy he should have felt at finally being free was overshadowed by worry for Harm. And it would be tonight before he could see Harm for himself. "Well," she began, drawing on every ounce of composure she could, trying to strike a reassuring tone when she was far from reassured herself, "when Harm ejected out of his plane, he suffered a head injury. No one's really quite sure how. He seemed fine for most of, uh, yesterday. He was awake and talking and …. Last evening he had a seizure and, well, that's when the doctors decided to fly him here for surgery."

"He had surgery on his brain?" Sergei asked with a sense of foreboding, remembering to switch to English after she responded to him in that language. In the Russian Army, he'd seen many a soldier die of head injuries. Medical care out in the field could be very primitive.

"Well, it's not as bad as you make it sound," Mac prevaricated, trying to reassure him. i _Well, it's true /i _, she justified internally. _The surgery itself wasn't that bad, at least if I'm interpreting the doctors' tone correctly. It's everything leading up to it. _"Harm is out of surgery and they're going to let us in to see him in a few minutes. He'll be fine. By the time you get here tonight, he should be awake, so you can talk to him for yourself."

"He will be fine?" he repeated, willing himself to believe her reassurances. From what little he knew, he was aware that Harm trusted Mac implicitly. Surely, she would not lie to him.

"Harm is a fighter," she said, trying to convince herself as much as him. "He always has been …." There was a pause on the other end of the line and Sergei tensed until Mac's voice came back over the phone. "Sergei, there's someone here who would like to talk to you."

He swallowed nervously. "Who?" he asked.

"Your grandmother," she replied before passing the phone to Sarah, who smiled with relief as she took the phone.

"Sergei," she said.

"Бабушка," he said, smiling at hearing his grandmother's warm voice. He'd spoken to her twice on the phone before his capture, once while in Moscow waiting to see Harm and Mac off on their trip back to Washington and the second time on his twentieth birthday shortly before his capture, a call Harm and Major Sokol had worked together to arrange. _Grandma._

The first time, he'd been nervous, even more so than meeting Harm. He'd never had grandparents in his life – his mother's parents had died before he was born – and although they were blood, he knew it must have come to as such a shock that to her that her son had another family in Siberia. But by the end of their first lengthy phone conversation – Sergei tried not to think about how much that call had cost Harm to make for him – throughout most of which he'd uncomfortably stumbled through calling her 'Mrs. Rabb,' he'd proclaimed her his beloved grandmother in Russian. She'd made him feel welcome, even more so than his brother had.

"How are you doing, Sergei?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said, a bit insistently, brushing aside the concern he heard in her voice. "Colonel MacKenzie said Harm is going to be fine?"

Sarah resisted the urge to sigh. Her grandson could be about to fall over from exhaustion and he probably wouldn't admit it. He was more worried about his brother than his own well-being. Typical Rabb stubbornness, she thought knowingly. "That's what the doctors tell us," she said confidently. "He's still unconscious from the surgery, but the family will be allowed in to see him in a few minutes and the doctors said they would start bringing him off the sedatives this afternoon so he can wake up. From what I understand, he should be conscious by the time you arrive this evening."

Sergei found himself being soothed by his grandmother's warm, calm voice. He could almost imagine her wrapping her arms around him, reassuring him with a tender hug and soothing words. Despite his worry, listening to Sarah set his mind at ease; he could believe that everything was going to be just fine.

-----

Sarah handed the phone back to Mac and she spoke to Clay for another minute, getting the details of Sergei's arrival. Clay was estimating they would arrive in Norfolk about seven that evening and told her that he'd already arranged for transportation from the airport to the hospital. Depending on traffic, Sergei would be with his family within an hour after that. After they were finished talking, she hung up the phone with a sigh.

"I know how he feels," Sarah murmured, "being so far away and feeling so helpless."

"Is it any worse than sitting here," Mac countered wearily, gesturing towards the ICU entrance at the other end of the corridor, "waiting for someone to come through those doors to tell us how he is?"

"I don't know," she admitted, for a brief second showing every one of her eighty-two years as she sighed. Then she was once again the strong, confident woman whom had been such a rock to her granddaughter-in-law for the last few hours. "Trish seems to think it was easier the last time. I think both situations come down to a lack of control. We couldn't make the plane going to Germany fly any faster any more than we could have hurried up the doctors in there." She studied Mac for a long moment, torn. She felt she'd been making inroads with Mac, making her feel as welcome as possible in their family, but a part of her was still hesitant about overstepping some imaginary boundary, one she wasn't entirely sure of the location of. She knew just enough from Harm about Mac's past to know that she didn't share herself easily. She decided to phrase her next thought as a question. "You don't like feeling like you don't have any control over the situation, do you?"

"I don't know how to handle not being there for him," she admitted after a moment, dropping into a chair with a heavy sigh. "When he found out about his dad on the i _Hornet /i _, his arrest, going to Russia both times …." She trailed off, trying not to remember the times she'd not been there for him – after he returned from the i _Henry /i _, when he was accused of writing that op-ed piece, after Sydney …. That one haunted her the most.

_Why did you go to him so quickly_

Why hadn't she heard him clearly before? Looking back on it since the engagement party, she saw things so differently. Instead of rejecting her, Harm now appeared in retrospect to have been lost, not entirely sure of his footing – at JAG, with her. Yet instead of trying to make things easier for him, she'd flown into the arms of another man, leaving Harm feeling …. what exactly? What had he really thought about her when she'd turned to Mic so quickly? Although she knew he'd been keeping a tight lid on his emotions, she'd heard the hurt in his tone as he'd asked the question and it taunted her, ridiculed her for bringing them this point. How many people had been hurt because she'd miscalculated Harm's intentions so badly?

"Honey," Sarah said gently, breaking into her condemning thoughts, "you can't do everything for him, no more than he can do everything for you." Mac glanced at her, wondering how Sarah could read her so easily. "Harm's told me a lot about you over the years. I know how much you've been there for each other and about the times when circumstances prevented you for being there."

"Circumstances?" Mac echoed, frustrated. "I turned my back on my best friend, on the man I love, and look what happened!"

Sarah reached over and took Mac's trembling hand in hers. "You wouldn't happen to be talking about the tension between the two of you when he returned from flight duty, would you," she said, not phrasing it as a question. "Harm did need closure on that part of his life, I won't deny that. But I'm sure there was a part of Harm that thought in some respects that he'd caused more heartache than he'd reconciled when he left JAG."

"Did he say that?" Mac asked, not surprised when Sarah shook her head.

"He didn't have to," she said. "But I do know this. He was seeing Jordan before he went back to flying, but when he told me that he was about to leave JAG, it wasn't her reaction to his decision that bothered him the most. He told me about your goodbye in his office the day he left and it broke his heart. I don't think he knew how to tell you that you weren't the only one crying."

"He never told me any of that," Mac confirmed.

"Mac," she began, "…. Sarah, let me tell you a little secret about Rabb men. They're passionate – about everything. But they're not really ones for showing their feelings - they keep a lot of that passion buried deep down inside. You have to know how to read the signs to see it and know how patiently coax it out of them. Has Harm ever told you about his grandfather?"

"Not a lot," she replied. "Just that he was killed in World War II."

"Hmmm," Sarah murmured. "Not that surprising, I suppose. I've tried to keep his father and grandfather alive through my memories of them, but I guess it's hard when you don't have a frame of reference. But I'm sure I've told him this story. Harm's grandfather and I had grown up together and it was generally known that I was sweet on him. He was harder to read, but most people figured that was just a man's way back then, but that we'd eventually end up married and raising a houseful of children, as people did in those days. Not that love wasn't important, but choice of a spouse was often a practical consideration. Men were raised to provide for their families and women were raised to keep the house and raise the children. Passion is good, but in the end, it alone won't keep a household together.

"Like most everywhere, Lucky Lindy's flight in '27 was huge news," she continued, pausing to gather her thoughts, while Mac listened intently. For some reason, she'd always had this idea that Harm's family background was the stuff made of dreams, despite the heartache they'd endured. He'd had two devoted parents who loved him, three including Frank, and he'd never wanted for anything. Certainly it was more romantic than anything she'd ever experienced. She'd never expected to hear his grandmother speaking of her family in such practical terms. "I had just turned eight, John was a year older. Remember how I told you Rabbs are so passionate about everything? Well, John became passionate about flying, maybe even more so than his son or grandson. I think it was the newness, the excitement of it."

Mac found herself smiling a little. "It's hard to believe that anyone could love flying more than Harm," she remarked.

"But he did," Sarah insisted. "Beallsville was just a small farming and mining community. About the only way that people got out in those days was to join the military. There is nobility in serving one's country that seems to have bypassed a lot of people in the last few generations. Back then, you didn't join the military to earn money for college, only to move on to some fancy civilian job when your term was up. Anyway, when John became a teenager, he started making trips into Pittsburgh. He'd go to the library and read up on flying. In _Time_ magazine, I think it was, he read about the ongoing rivalry between the Army and the Navy in developing their air programs, so then he started seeking out recruiters. By then, we were all already aware of the rumblings coming from Europe, so the military was only to happy to welcome someone like John into their ranks."

"What about you?" Mac asked, sensing that this was the thrust of the story. "How did you feel about his career aspirations?"

"Ah," Sarah said, chuckling a little. "You see where I'm going with this. By then, John and I had an unspoken understanding between us, or so I thought. I didn't understand this obsession of his. He was going to probably be moving around from base to base every few years, with the possibility of sea duty as carriers were starting to come into vogue in the Navy, plus there was the looming possibility that we'd get dragged into Europe's troubles within a few years. I didn't see my place in his plans and I have to say John wasn't doing too well on letting me know what that place was. I didn't really know anyone that well who was in the military, at least not anyone who'd made a career of it. Once they'd left, not a lot of people came back to Beallsville aside from the occasional visit to family still there. My own father had been drafted, served his two years during the Great War, came home, married my mother and worked the farm while my mother worked on producing eleven children, of which I was the oldest."

"I can relate to some of that," Mac admitted. "When Harm left, I had that same feeling of not knowing where I fit into his life, maybe even a part of me wondered if I ever had fit in."

Sarah nodded. "That's what I thought. Well, one night, shortly after John had been accepted into the Navy – back then a college degree wasn't a requirement to become an officer – and knew he was going to be able to go to flight school, we fought bitterly about it. We had gone out for a ride in his father's truck and all he could talk about was the Navy. I finally had enough and insisted he take me home as it was quite obvious to me that I had no place in his life anymore. Even then, it was after half an hour of arguing before he finally blurted out 'Sarah, sweetheart, I'm not doing any of this without you. As soon as I get out of flight school, I'm coming back to get you and you'll come with me wherever the Navy decides to send me."

"That was his proposal?" Mac asked, incredulous, laughter bubbling up within her. Even Harm had managed to get out the words 'Will you marry me?' Maybe it was genetic, as Sarah has suggested.

"That was it," she confirmed. "I smacked him on the side of the head with my purse. I suppose that I was enough of a dreamer that I expected something more than just his foregone conclusion that I was a part of the deal. That was the night I'd finally figured out the Rabb mystique…." She trailed off, remembering John pulling her into his arms and kissing the life out of her. They'd kissed before – chaste pecks on the lips when he would take her home after a date, when he knew her family was probably watching them through the windows. But in that one kiss, she'd felt everything he'd never been able to say to her and she knew in that moment that she would follow him anywhere.

"Um, Gram?" Mac asked hesitantly, nervous about breaking into the other woman's memories. Despite their short time together, it was obvious that the life John and Sarah Rabb shared had been a good one.

"We may not have had much time," Sarah said wistfully, echoing Mac's train of thought, "but I wouldn't trade those memories for anything. It was only because of him that I left my home and I returned after he died. People suggested that I should remarry, have more children."

"But you didn't," Mac said. She knew from Harm that his father had been an only child and assumed, since Sarah had been introduced to her as Sarah Rabb, that she'd never remarried after her husband's death.

"John left me one of those letters," Sarah explained, "one of those that most military men wrote to their families in case they didn't come back. Knowing him, it was probably the hardest letter he ever had to write, because he said a lot of things in it that he'd never been able to say out loud. He told me that the reason he'd been so certain that I was going to go with him when he left home was that I had the 'fortitude' to be able to make a life for us despite having an absentee husband and facing having to move wherever the Navy wanted to send him. He was quite a handsome man, as I'm sure you can imagine, and had his share of girls swooning over him. But he needed more than some silly girl who just fancied herself in love with him."

Mac stared at her uncomprehendingly. "After John died," Sarah continued, sensing her confusion, "I had a widow's pension from the Navy and his family's farm, which he – as the only son in his family – had inherited when his father died, and I moved back there with his mother and my son. There were times when I wondered why I didn't just find myself a dependable man who could take care of us. Then I could worry about nothing but runny noses and making sure dinner wasn't too cold."

"You must think I'm awful for being willing to settle for another man," Mac began, Sarah vehemently shaking her head.

"I wasn't thinking any such thing," she protested. "I'm only thinking that you are human and both you and Harm could learn how to communicate with each other a little better. But when you figure it out, I think you'll find that loving Harm is worth everything that you two have gone through. Even after that night when we reached our understanding, getting John to open up was still like pulling teeth sometimes – there are times when they just don't want to shake loose no matter how much you yank. But he tried to remember that I wasn't a mind reader and I tried to look for what he was thinking in his actions rather than your words."

"Does Harm ever tell you how wise you are, Gram?" Mac asked, the light dawning. How many times had Harm shown her through his actions that he loved her, while she'd focused on waiting for the words?

"All the time," she replied, waving her hand dismissively. "But you'll find when you're eighty-two, most people will think you're wise as well. Life experience will do that to you. But don't be fooled into thinking I haven't made my share of mistakes, dear. The key is to learn from those as well."

Mac mulled over what she was saying. It was so easy to see why Harm so easily – well, maybe not so easily – confided in his grandmother. Mac imagined that she was the lynch pin that held the family together. John Rabb had certainly pegged his wife correctly. She certainly was one of the strongest women Mac had ever met.

A nurse Mac hadn't seen before walked up to them. "Colonel Rabb?" she asked. At Mac's confirming nod, she continued, "I'm Lieutenant Collins, the night nurse in ICU. We've gotten your husband settled and you can go back and see him. Two people are allowed in for fifteen minutes at a time. Doctor Stafford is still back there with him, so if you have any questions about your husband's condition, you can ask him."

"Why don't you go with Lieutenant Collins, Mac?" Sarah suggested, squeezing her hand. "I'll go let Trish and Frank know, and Trish can follow you in."

As Sarah returned to the waiting room, Mac got up and followed the nurse down the corridor to ICU, stopping suddenly just outside the double glass doors leading to the ward. "I'd like to wait for my mother-in-law," she explained to the nurse. "She's supposed to go in with me."

A moment later, Sarah, Trish and Frank joined them, apprehension evident in all their tired eyes. Sarah introduced Trish and Frank to the nurse. "If you and Mrs. Burnett will follow me, Colonel," the nurse instructed, "I take you back now. There's a waiting room just inside the ward where Mrs. Rabb and Mr. Burnett can wait until you come out."

They all followed her into the ICU ward, Frank and Sarah being shown into the waiting room before Mac and Trish were escorted to a room at the far end of the ward where Doctor Stafford was waiting for them. He nodded in greeting as the nurse quietly slipped away. "Commander Rabb is continuing to do as well as can be expected," he said. "His vitals have remained stable since he came out of surgery. Someone will check on him every half hour and if it continues to go well, we still anticipate lowering his level of sedation this afternoon as planned." He paused, considering this one of the hardest parts of his job, almost harder than telling people their loved ones had died. Having been a neurosurgeon for twenty years, he knew that a patient coming out of surgery could be a scary sight and there was really no way to prepare a family for it. "If you have questions about anything, please ask me."

He pushed the door open and Mac followed him in first, her hands clenched into fists at her side, her fingernails digging into her palms as she involuntarily gasped. She froze for a split second before she strode over to the side of the bed, pulling a chair up next to it. Reaching out, she took his left hand, resting on top of the blanket, in hers, nearly dropping it in shock at the sensation of his ice-cold fingers in hers. Had he been that cold earlier, when they'd thought his only problem was fighting the hypothermia?

Trish pulled up another chair and settled in it, watching Mac as much as Harm. Looking at him from this angle, but for the ventilator tubing coming out of his mouth and the IV in his left forearm, it almost looked like he was sleeping. But she, like Mac, had gotten a glimpse of the ugly, black stitches running in a line four inches long on the back of his head. He was rolled onto his right side, to keep pressure off the incision, Trish assumed. In a way, it didn't look nearly as bad as it had it had ten years earlier, when one leg had been in traction and bandages had covered burns sustained in the crash.

Tentatively, Mac reached out with her free hand and touched her fingers to his shaved head, remembering the feel of his soft hair beneath her fingertips the other night, as his mouth had moved down her body. It would grow back she knew and, as long as he didn't keep it too short – but still within military regs - it would likely cover the scar left by the surgical incision. She flicked her gaze to the various machines over the head of the bed, but couldn't make sense of any of them but the slow, steady blip of sound and spiked line indicating his beating heart.

"Um," she began hoarsely, pausing to clear her throat, "the ventilator, is it really necessary?"

"Commander Rabb is breathing on his own," Stafford replied. "But between the previous seizure and the uncertainties of brain surgery, it's a necessary precaution. After we go a time without signs of any more seizures, we'll start weaning him off the machine. Probably sometime tomorrow, or maybe even later today, I'll feel confident enough to remove it completely."

"How long do you anticipate he'll have to stay in the hospital?" Trish asked.

"A lot depends on the patient himself," he replied. "Commander Rabb does have a lot in his favor. His health is very good otherwise, but the hypothermia complicates things since he wasn't completely recovered from that yet. I've had patients be released from the hospital in as soon as six days after this type of surgery. My understanding is that he lives in Washington, so likely what we will do is airlift him to Bethesda the day before and release him from there. The long drive from here back to DC is out of the question for now."

Trish and the doctor looked at Mac, but her attention was focused solely on Harm. She knew there were probably a million questions she should probably be asking, but she couldn't put a single one into words right now. To ask about the ventilator had only occurred to her because she'd brushed her hand against the blue tube as she'd reached for his head.

"If you don't have any more questions," Stafford said, "I'll leave you alone with him now while I brief the rest of your family on what to expect." At Trish's nod, he made a note in the chart he was holding and hung it on the end of the bed before walking out, quietly closing the door behind him.

Trish studied Mac for a moment, sympathy welling at the site of a trail of moisture out the corner of one eye. Remembering what Frank had said, she tried to focus on what they had in common, the only thing that was important right now. "I didn't know what to think when we arrived in Germany ten years ago. Harm had the usual childhood injuries – bumps and bruises, even a broken arm once – but nothing prepares you …. the smallest victories became cause for celebration. The day he was able to stand on his own two feet for just a few seconds, when he was able to slowly make his way to the door of his room, then down the hall."

"You'd never know it to look at him now that he'd gone through all that," Mac remarked quietly. The other night, she'd felt what might be scars on his lower back and hips, but hadn't had the opportunity to explore or to ask about them.

"That's the one thing I'm trying to hold on to right now," Trish said. "Harm is one of the strongest people I know and he doesn't know how to give up. I would not be surprised if in six months, a year, you can't tell any of this happened at first glance."

Mac studied him, idly rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand. The few times she'd seen him seriously injured, he'd bounced back so quickly. After he'd been hit by a car, he'd even diffused a terrorist takeover of the hospital. But never before had she seen him like this, looking so helpless. It was hard to reconcile this Harm with the one she was familiar with and had fallen in love with, the confident pilot-slash-lawyer who had been there for her so many times. He was usually the one there for her, like the way he'd been practically glued to her side after she'd been shot. This new reality set her entire world off-kilter.

"I have to believe that," Mac whispered, a tremor barely detectible in her voice. But Trish heard it and her heart went out to the younger woman whom she sensed was trying to be so strong, ready to let Harm lean on her as he recovered. Making a decision, she reached out and clasped her hand on Mac's shoulder. When Mac turned and glanced at her, she thought she caught a glimpse of gratitude in Mac's teary brown eyes.

-----

To be continued….


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note - parts 9-15 are all new material.

-----

HARM'S HOSPITAL ROOM

For nearly fifteen minutes, Mac and Trish quietly sat side by side next to the bed, each of them holding one of Harm's hands. The only sounds in the room was the steady hiss of the ventilator as it pushed air in and out of his lungs and the beeping of the heart monitor. Several times, Trish thought about saying something, but stopped herself. Even if she did know what to say to her new daughter-in-law, Mac seemed lost in her own world, her glistening eyes locked on some point on the far wall as she traced random patterns over the back of his hand.

For her part, Mac was lost in the memories of a relationship that seemed to defy explanation and classification, the pictures replaying in her mind like a home movie, the frames sometimes smoothly flowing, other times jerky and jumpy. They'd been in turns wary strangers, adversaries, partners, confidants, friends who'd grown closer with each crazy situation they'd been in, friends who'd lost their way as their careers and priorities seemingly pulled them in different directions and now everything had been turned upside down. At a time when the circumstances of their situation would have pushed most people further apart, they'd been pulled together, closer than they'd ever been. Like two magnets, they were constantly drawn towards each other, no matter how one tried to pull them apart.

"Excuse me," a voice said behind them. Trish turned to see the same nurse who had escorted them to Harm's room standing in the open doorway, while Mac continued to gaze into the distance, her fingers now idly rubbing the spot where Harm's wedding ring had rested until just before he'd been taken into surgery, when it'd been given to her, to join his dog tags on a chain around her neck. "I'm sorry, but your fifteen minutes are up."

"We've only been in here for thirteen minutes and forty-eight seconds," a soft voice countered. It took Trish a moment to realize that it was Mac who had spoken.

While the nurse and Trish watched her, surprised, Mac glanced down at Harm, her voice catching as she said, "I'd give anything right now if you'd wake up and ask me how I did that."

Trish sent the nurse a look, pleading for understanding, and the nurse nodded, her gaze sympathetic. "I'll go let the others know that they can see Commander Rabb in a few minutes," she said. "Then I'm sure all of you can use some rest and then you can come back later this afternoon when Dr. Stafford is ready to bring the Commander around."

The nurse slipped back out of the room and Trish turned to Mac, placing her free hand on her shoulder. Mac forced a weak smile. "From almost the moment I met him," she explained, "he's teased me about that, trying to get me to tell him how I do that. It's kind of become a running joke between us. I give him the time down to the second and when he inevitably asks how, or raises his eyebrows in that way of his, I come up with a different excuse each time."

"Were any of them the real story?" Trish asked, intrigued at the playful insight into their relationship.

Mac managed a half-hearted laugh. "Not really," she admitted. "It wouldn't have had the same effectiveness if I'd just told him that I don't really know how I did it, just that I seem to have been able to do it as far back as I can remember." She shrugged. "Maybe I ought to throw that in sometime just to see if he believes me."

She leaned over, brushing her lips against Harm's temple. "Tell you what, Sailor," she whispered. "You come out of this and I'll tell you anything you want to know." But there was no response. She knew it was unrealistic, but she'd seen Harm bounce back so many times that she was half expecting him to suddenly wake up and tease her about how she was giving the Corps a bad name with her tears.

Sensing they were no longer alone, Trish looked up to see Frank and Sarah standing in the doorway. "Mac," she said gently, getting up and moving out of the way so Frank could take her seat, "why don't we let Frank and Mom have their time with Harm? We'll be back to see him later."

She didn't want to leave, but knew that the others loved Harm just as much as she did and were just as concerned. She rose from her chair, slowly letting Harm's hand slip from hers, holding onto that tenuous connection until the last possible moment.

"Trish," Frank said, giving her a quick squeeze before he slid into her chair, "you and Mac should go down to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat. Admiral Chegwidden stopped by while Sarah and I were waiting to see Harm. He said he would meet us there and then drive us to the airfield to pick up Harm and Mac's cars. Mac, you have a key to Harm's car, don't you?"

"Yeah," she replied after she realized that Frank had directed his question to her. "I picked up his spare key from his apartment before I left for Norfolk." She started digging in her purse, pulling out the key and holding it out towards them. "I'm sure Harm would want you to have the use of his car while you're here. I can call a taxi later to take me over to the terminal to pick up my car. I'm not ready to leave the hospital just yet."

Trish, Frank and Sarah all exchanged looks, understanding all too well. After Harm's first crash and after they'd finally been able to see him after hours in the air flying from the United States to Germany, the last thing any of them had wanted to do was leave his side. One of the hardest things they'd learned was that they would be of no comfort to Harm if they were on the verge of collapse themselves. He'd only worry more about them than his own well-being. "Mac," Sarah said, linking her arm with Mac's, "we'd all like to stay here until Harm wakes up. But I know him. He would be upset to find us not taking care of ourselves. When's the last time you got any sleep? Or had anything to eat?"

Mac tried, but she couldn't recall. She knew they were right, but it was so hard to leave him. She knew that somewhere deep in his subconscious, he knew that she was there and that he would feel the loss if she left. Ever since they'd known each other, they'd been there for each other and in the few times they hadn't, both of them usually ended up regretting it. "I don't remember," she replied with a heavy sigh.

"That settles it then," Sarah said firmly, handing her off to Trish, and then slipping into the chair vacated by Mac. "Both of you go get something to eat and we'll join you down there after we've spent some time with Harm."

Mac felt like she's just been steamrollered. Was that where Harm got it from, she wondered, his full-steam-ahead, take-charge attitude? She'd never seen the two of them together, but she could hear the man she loved in the warm, caring voice of his grandmother. She probably would have made a good commanding officer. Of course, if Harm's father had been anything like the son, Sarah had probably had plenty of practice in giving orders. Finally, she nodded. "Okay," she said. "I guess I could use something to eat." Her eyes watered as she thought about Harm teasing her about her eating habits.

Pulling away from Trish, Mac made her way to the head of the bed, leaned over and pressed her lips to Harm's forehead, her hand caressing his shaved head, carefully avoiding the surgical incision. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised. "I love you."

Blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall again, Mac left the room, barely aware of Trish following a few steps behind. Her gait became unsteady as they drew closer to the door, her hands pulling Harm's leather jacket tight around her to ward off an imaginary chill. She froze in front of the ward doors, and before Trish could say anything, Mac spun around and fled into the ICU waiting room.

Trish followed at a respectful distance, prepared to allow Mac privacy, but ready with a comforting shoulder to lean on if it was needed. She hovered just outside the door, noting that Mac was now visibly trembling, her head bowed. As she watched, Mac moved to sit down, but missed the chair, falling to the uncarpeted floor in an undignified heap.

As Trish entered the room, kneeling on the floor next to Mac, her mother's heart broke as her thoughts flew back to a Christmas Day over thirty-one years past….

_She'd been strong the entire day, trying not to let her tears show in front of her six-year-old son, accepting the condolences and assurances from their friends and neighbors with barely a tremor in her voice. As the sun had set on their nightmare of a Christmas, she'd shooed all the well-wishers from their quarters, pleading exhaustion and a need to be alone with her son. _

_She'd struggled to lift her sleeping son from the sofa, tears beginning to fall in earnest. A few months earlier, both husband and son had teased her that Harm was a big boy now that he was getting too big for his mother to lift without great effort, while Harmon had still been able to lift him over his head with ease, just like he had as they'd said goodbye to him on the docks that hot August day when they'd seen him for what would turnout to be the last time. After she'd managed to get Harm into his pajamas and under the covers without waking him, she'd made her way to her own bed, where she'd collapsed on top of the covers in exhaustion and sorrow, crying as if her broken heart would never be whole again…._

_Trish didn't know how long she'd been lying there on the bed she and Harmon had shared, sobbing her heart out, before Sarah arrived. She'd just eventually realized that her mother-in-law, who had just arrived after being picked up at the airport by one of Harmon's flight school buddies, was sitting next to her on the bed, rubbing slow circles over her back, a box of tissues at the ready. _

Now, as she wrapped her arms around Mac and pulled her close, Trish found herself in the same role Sarah had played on that long ago day, grieving what had happened to her son while doing her best to provide a comforting presence for her distraught daughter-in-law. "It's okay to cry," she whispered against Mac's hair, echoing Sarah's words on that long-ago day. "Let it all out."

Mac tensed slightly as she felt Trish's arms encircle her. She wasn't used to being comforted by others. Certainly, she'd never found that sympathetic concern with her own parents, not even when she and her mother had flirted fleetingly with a real relationship as her father had lay dying, before she'd realized that her mother's motherly instincts had always been little more than an illusion. Outside of Harm – in the Appalachian Mountains; after she'd fallen off the wagon and had been embarrassed to face her friends and co-workers; that night in his apartment when they'd thought Clay was dead – she couldn't think of a single person who'd provided a comforting presence in her life since her uncle had helped her dry out and set her on the path to the Marines.

After a moment, when Trish simply ignored the tension in Mac's rigid posture and continued to hold her, Mac relaxed into her embrace, her tears soaking Trish's blouse as she found something oddly comforting in the arms of this woman she barely knew. Maybe it was Harm, she rationalized. This was Harm's mother, the one who'd carried him, bore him, tried to comfort all his hurts during his childhood. 'I'm so-so sorry," she stuttered, her words muffled against Trish's shoulder.

-----

WAITING ROOM, SURGICAL WARD

"Well, I'm not just going to sit here and wait anymore," Renee declared, stopping mid-pace in the middle of the waiting room outside of the surgical ward, where she'd been waiting, ever less patiently as the hours wore on, since she'd arrived at the hospital. The room, crowded with Harm's concerned friends and co-workers for half the night, was now empty except for her and Mic.

Most of the JAG crew had left the hospital, heading for their hotels – or even back to Washington in a few cases - after they'd been told that Harm was out of surgery and would not be able to have visitors except for family. The Admiral was still around somewhere, waiting to take the Burnetts and Harm's grandmother to billeting since they'd ridden to Norfolk with him, but he'd excused himself some time ago to go make some phone calls, muttering something about the SecNav. Bud had left briefly, taking his family and Kyle Anderson to their hotel, but then had come back to wait with Chloe, who refused to leave until she could see Mac. Chloe hadn't wanted to wait in the same room as Mic and Renee for any longer than she absolutely had to, so she'd convinced Bud to take a walk with her. Father Gilly had disappeared somewhere, to where Renee didn't really care. Since he was the one who had to have married Harm and Mac aboard the carrier, had played a part in taking Harm away from her, as far as she was concerned, he was the enemy.

"What are you planning to do?" Mic asked impatiently. He thought he'd shown remarkable restraint so far in refraining from going to Mac, insisting that she come with him. But his tolerance for the whole situation was rapidly evaporating as the hours wore on. "The people in this bloody place aren't letting anyone except family back to see Rabb." He spat the word 'family' out, as if it tasted sour on his tongue.

"I know that I'm not just going to sit around here waiting for news about my lover," she said angrily, grabbing her purse off the sofa and slinging it over her shoulder. "I've been with Harm for almost a year and a half, yet I'm given no more consideration than …. Look, I'm not going to wait here while your fiancée is allowed to sit at his bedside, playing the loving and devoted wife."

"If you figure out a way to drag her away from his side," Mic said, "make sure to share your insight with me."

"Don't you dare tell me you're giving up," she demanded, jabbing her finger at him.

"Hell, no," he replied forcefully. "I just have to talk to Sarah. As soon as I talk to her, everything will be fine. I'm sure that given the circumstances, it won't take any effort at all to annul this farce of a marriage. Then Sarah can become my wife and you can have Rabb all to yourself. Just as it's meant to be."

"Right," Renee said slowly. She wished they could both be as confident as Mic made himself sound. "Well, then, here's what's going to happen now. I'm going to go down to ICU and I am going to walk through those doors as if I belong there and I'm going to see Harm. And I intend to be there when he wakes up. I intend to make sure that my face is the first face he sees."

"Good luck, Renee," Mic said sincerely.

She nodded once, forcing a smile. "You, too," she replied, turning back as she left the room.

Renee may not have been an actress, but she'd been around enough to know how to carry herself. She decided that she just had to act as if she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She glanced at the directory by the elevator and then remembered that earlier, when she and Mic had gotten off the elevator, Father Gilly had asked them if they were looking for ICU or surgery. That meant ICU had to be somewhere on this floor.

Finding a sign for ICU and following the arrows on subsequent signs, Renee confidently strode down the hall until she came to the large glass double-doors labeled 'Intensive Care'. Taking a deep breath, she pushed one of the doors open and walked through. Surely there couldn't be too many people in ICU, she thought. It couldn't be that hard to find Harm's room without having to ask someone for help, someone who might realize that, according to someone's ridiculous rules, she wasn't supposed to be able to see the man she loved.

She'd just barely passed the nurses' desk when a voice called out to her. "Excuse me, ma'am. This area is restricted."

Renee spun on her heel to find a nurse rushing up to her. "I'm here to see Harmon Rabb," she said. "I was told that we were finally being allowed in to see him."

"Ma'am," the nurse said, "only family is allowed in right now."

"I am family …. Nurse Taylor," Renee lied, her eyes searching out the woman's name tag.

"I was given a list of the authorized visitors," the nurse corrected her gently, keeping her tone calm in an effort to calm the obviously upset Renee. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but there were only three women on the list. Commander Rabb's wife and mother have already been in to see him and his grandmother is in there right now. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I am not leaving," Renee said, her voice growing more insistent, taking a step back as Nurse Taylor moved to take her arm. "I have to see Harm and if you think you're going to stop me …." She froze, her eyes drawn to the site just inside the open waiting room door.

-----

"It's going to be okay, Mac," Trish assured her, her own tears starting to fall. "We have to believe that."

"But …." Mac sputtered, her words coming out in gasps between her sobs. "I didn't …. he should have stayed on the ship ….. he came back for me."

"Darling, you didn't put that storm in his path," Trish reminded her, ignoring the tiny voice in her head that mocked her, reminding her that she'd been very ready to question Mac's role in this whole fiasco just hours ago.

"But he didn't have to come back," Mac insisted, shaking her head as she clung to Trish. "But he said he was coming back …. and …. and I suggested that he just stay in Norfolk instead of driving back to DC …. I just never thought …. he said he would be okay flying back, that the storm wasn't in his path …."

Trish was silent for a moment, stroking Mac's hair in a soothing gesture as she turned things over in her mind. Harm had been trying to make it back in time for the wedding, she'd assumed, but Mac had just said …. "Mac, I know the kind of man my son is," she said. "You're his best friend and he wouldn't have wanted to miss your wedding, if he thought that's …. "

"But he knew," Mac interrupted with a shuddering breath. "He called me before he left the ship and I …. I told him there wasn't going to be a wedding …. that – that I was going to contact Mic and call the whole thing off. He didn't have to come back, but he said he wanted to be there for me in – in case I needed him. He was coming back for me."

-----

Renee took an unsteady step backwards, her eyes wide. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Mac was going to go back to Mic and then she would have Harm to herself finally. Mic had insisted that was the way it was going to be and she was so anxious to believe that herself that she'd worked to ignore the warning bells that had been constantly peeling in her head since Mac had first announced that she was Harm's wife. It was supposed to be Mac and Mic and her and Harm having their 'happily-ever-after'. It wasn't supposed to be Mac and Harm. Not after all her hopes and prayers these last few months.

_I told him there wasn't going to be a wedding_.

Mac's tearful confession echoed in her head as Nurse Taylor tried to get her attention again. "Ma'am? Ma'am?"

Renee blinked, gradually becoming aware that the nurse was still speaking to her. "I'm sorry?" she asked, forcing her gaze away from the waiting room. She couldn't watch anymore.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" Nurse Taylor asked, concerned about Renee's suddenly ashen features. "Do you need some help?"

"No," Renee murmured, pulling away and heading for the door. "No one can help. Not now." She fled through the double doors, barely making it back to the elevator before the tears began falling in earnest.

-----

"That's my son," Trish said sadly, tightening her arms around Mac, resting her cheek against the top of Mac's head. "He'd do anything for the people he loves. And if he thought you needed him, he would be here for you. There isn't a thing in this world that would have stopped him."

Mac pulled back slightly, seeing only sympathy and understanding in Trish's eyes. "Yeah," she said, forcing a sad smile through her tears, "he would, wouldn't he?"

"And that in no way makes the crash your fault," Trish said, climbing to her feet, pulling Mac up with her. "When you were outside earlier with Mom, the Admiral talked to Captain, um …."

"Ingles?"

Trish nodded. "Yes, Captain Ingles. He said that so far, they don't have anything to suggest that this was anything other than massive systems failure and the storm. Anyway, Mom and Frank should be about finished seeing Harm. Let's get down to the cafeteria. I noticed you didn't eat the sandwich that Father Gilly brought you earlier and I know I haven't eaten since before we left Washington. We'll get something to eat and then we'll go over to billeting and get a few hours sleep. Then we can come back and see Harm this afternoon when the doctor is ready to bring him out of sedation. Okay?"

Mac nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Burnett."

"It's Trish," she said, pulling a tissue out of her purse and handing it to Mac. Mac took it gratefully, trying to wipe the still-falling tears from her eyes. "You're married to my son now. That makes us family."

-----

Fifteen minutes later, Trish and Mac were reunited with Frank and Sarah in the cafeteria. Frank set a tray down with his and Sarah's food in the center of the table as they sat down across from Trish and Mac. Trish was half-heartedly digging into her pancakes, pushing each piece through the syrup for an inordinate amount of time before bringing it to her mouth. Mac wasn't even putting that much effort into her meal, her sausage, egg and cheese biscuit sitting untouched while she pushed her hash browns around the plate with her fork. Sarah didn't much feel like eating either, but she dug into her French toast, realizing that she couldn't keep her energy up at her age by skipping meals.

Trying not to grimace at the stereotypical hospital sludge, Frank sipped his coffee as he watched the three women. His role since joining the Rabb family had often been that of sounding board and peacemaker and it was a role he played well. He'd listened as Trish had poured out her fear and frustration when Harm had gone missing the summer he'd been sixteen. Then when Harm had finally come home, suddenly years older than when he'd left, he'd tried to still the waters between the mother who'd wanted her little boy back and the young man who'd grown up too soon. It was the same way when Harm had been accepted to the Naval Academy and Trish had been terrified to let Harm follow in his father's footsteps. Just a few hours ago, he'd been trying to convince his wife to give Mac a chance and not to jump to conclusions about her hasty marriage to Harm.

Fortunately, things seemed better on that front. They might be lost in their own thoughts, but he sensed none of the tension that had existed between Trish and Mac earlier. He was thankful for that. He could only deal with so much before he was forced to step back and take care of himself. He and Trish had decided early in their marriage not to have children of their own, for reasons that had both nothing and everything to do with Harm. But although Harm even refused to acknowledge the fact until the last few years, Frank loved him as much as if he'd been his own son, and he could only take so much pain and anguish before it overwhelmed even him.

He glanced at his wife, meeting her concerned gaze. Reaching across the table to take her hand in his, he managed a reassuring smile, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Mac.

Harm may have had his problems over the years with Frank, Mac realized as she watched the silent words of comfort flow back and forth between her in-laws, but he'd managed to admit to her once, shortly after their trip to Russia, just how good Frank had been, both to and for Trish and Harm. She could only hope that her marriage was as strong and loving as theirs apparently was. That was what she'd been searching for her entire life and, with the right man finally at her side, it seemed to finally be within her grasp.

Watching Trish and Frank, she realized that Harriet had been right. Even if she hadn't shown it so blatantly by spending the night three days before her wedding making love with Harm, she wasn't in the right frame of mind to marry Mic. Although she'd tried, she'd never felt the kind of connection between the two of them that seemed so obvious between her in-laws. Her eyes drifting closed, she could see her and Harm reaching for each other across the breakfast table in the years to come, a simple gesture that could mean so little, yet so much.

She was startled out of her reverie by a voice just over her shoulder, one she'd wanted to avoid for as long as possible. But she knew she would have to deal with it sooner or later. She'd just tried to push it out of her mind, hoping it would be later. "Sarah, love," Mic said, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting down to her right. He moved to take her hand, but she deftly avoided the gesture by spearing a bit of hash browns with her fork, forcing herself to take a bite. "I've been looking for you. I checked in ICU and the nurse said she thought she'd overheard you saying something about getting a bite to eat."

"Mic," Mac pleaded, turning a steady gaze on him. Although the one of the last things she wanted to do right now was face him, she wasn't afraid to do so. Mic loved her and she'd hurt him so much. She could understand how upset he was. "Please understand. I can't do this. There's just so much going on right now. I can't handle anything else right at the moment."

"When, Sarah?" he asked, ignoring the eyes turned to him. They were Rabb's family, he thought, and he could care less what they thought. His only concern was Mac.

"See, Bud," Chloe joined in as she rushed up to them, Bud hot on her heels, "I told you that he was off to find Mac after we saw him walking away from ICU." She turned to Mic, angry. "Why can't you just leave her alone? Hasn't she been through enough the last two days without you adding to that?"

"I hardly think it's a crime," Mic replied, frustrated, running a hand through his hair, "to expect to be able to talk to my own fiancée. Sarah …."

"She's married to Harm now," Chloe insisted, her raised voice drawing stares from the other patrons. "She loves him and not …."

"Chloe," Mac interrupted, dropping her fork and turning in her chair to take Chloe's hands in hers. "This is between Mic and me. I can handle this."

"But, Mac …."

"But nothing," she said, shaking her head. She turned to Bud, who was studiously looking away, uncomfortable at being caught in this situation. He was to have been Mic's best man and while he was sympathetic to Mic's concerns, Harm and Mac were his mentors, two of his closest friends and godparents to his son. "Bud, can you and Chloe go find the Admiral, please? We need to go over to the air terminal and pick up my car and Harm's. We're going to get checked into the VOQ and get some sleep. Then we'll be back here this afternoon when the doctors are ready to bring Harm out of the anesthesia."

"Yes, ma'am," Bud replied, his quick response hinting at his unease with the situation and desire to distance himself from it.

Chloe started to protest, but Mac shushed her with a stern look. "It will be okay, Chloe," she assured her with a confidence she didn't quite feel.

Reluctantly, Chloe nodded. "How's Harm?" she asked, changing the subject.

"He's …." Mac hesitated, not sure what to say. Harm was by no means out of the woods, she knew, but she didn't want to scare Chloe any more than she already had been by everything that had happened. Swallowing down her own fears, she continued, "He's hanging in there. He's still unconscious, but the doctors want it that way for now since he's been through so much trauma. He needs this time to begin healing. Dr. Stafford did sound confident after Harm was brought out of surgery, though. You know Harm. In a few days, he'll probably be well on the way to being his old self."

"Okay," Chloe said. She didn't want to believe that it was any worse than what Mac had said, so she accepted the report at face value. "When you see him later, tell him I said 'hi' and that he has to get better soon."

"I will," Mac promised. She pulled Chloe into her arms, giving her a quick squeeze. "Now go find the Admiral for me."

Mic waited until he thought Chloe was a safe distance away and then sought to regain Mac's attention. "Sarah," he said insistently, this time grabbing her hand before she could pull it away, "we have to talk about what's happened."

"I know that, Mic," she replied, biting back a sigh of frustration as she tried to figure out how to gain control of the conversation. _Remember_, she thought, _his whole world's been turned upside down. Of course he wants answers_. She wished she could know for certain that he would be willing to accept the answers she would give him. "But you have to understand that now is not the time. Please accept that and be patient. We will talk."

"When, Sarah?" he pressed.

"Tomorrow morning," she said, making a split-second decision more out of the need to get him off her back than of a desire to deal with the situation. "You remember the IHOP on Military Parkway where we ate that one time? Why don't you meet me there for breakfast at 0700? That'll give me the rest of today to get some rest and to make sure of where things stand with Harm." Harm would have regained consciousness and, barring any unforeseen complications, which she knew were unfortunately a real concern given his injuries, he would probably be slowly moving down the road to recovery by then.

He felt a sliver of hope at her last statement, misinterpreting her concern for Harm's medical situation as uncertainty over the state of their marriage. "Instead of meeting you," he countered, unhappy with the public meeting place and trying to come up with an alternative that would guarantee them some privacy, "why don't I pick you up at the Navy Lodge? Then we can go get breakfast together." He thought that his clever compromise would give him the opening to talk to her at her room, away from prying eyes. Perhaps he'd even get a chance to show her what they meant to each other.

"That's not necessary," she said, recognizing his tactic, but reminding herself that she should give him a little latitude in his feelings. "I'll have my car by then and I don't want you to go out of your way to come pick me up. I'll just meet you there."

Mic was about to protest her insistence on meeting him when A.J. approached them with Bud and Chloe, his rigid stance barely concealing his fury. He'd expected Mic to still have enough respect for the military and his command authority to accede to his strongly-worded suggestion to leave Mac alone for now. A.J. was satisfied to note that Mic had a hard time meeting his gaze. "Mr. Brumby," he said, letting his unspoken admonishment hang in the air between them.

"Admiral," Mic reluctantly acknowledged the rebuke, realizing he was rapidly losing control, if he'd ever had it in this conversation. Turning back to Mac, he acquiesced, "Okay, love. I'll meet you tomorrow morning at 0700." He stood to leave, but unable to resist, he leaned over to kiss Mac. Realizing his intent, she turned as if to say something to A.J., causing Mic's lips to land on her cheek instead of her mouth.

"Well, then," he said, straightening, rationalizing that she was probably uncomfortable kissing him in front of Rabb's family, "I'm off." He pulled a piece of a paper from his pants' pocket, holding it out to Mac. "Here's the address and phone number of the Doubletree Hotel where I'm staying. If you need anything …."

Turning again to face him, she let him hand her the slip, nodding. "Thank you, Mic," she said, slipping the paper into the inner pocket of Harm's jacket without looking at it.

As Mic walked out, Mac thought that she should have been relieved that she'd handled that moderately well, but could not ignore the tiny voice in the back of her head, warning her that Mic had just proven that he had no intention of going down for the count, not without putting up on hell of a fight.

-----

To be continued….


	10. Chapter 10

MORGAN'S FOOD AND SPIRITS  
DOUBLETREE HOTEL NORFOLK AIRPORT

It had taken some doing since the hotel's check-in time wasn't until three, but a dash of Aussie charm coupled with a sad story of being up all night at Portsmouth Naval Medical Center waiting for a very dear friend to come out of surgery got Mic a room where he could crash. It hadn't been too hard to be convincing, even if he did exaggerate the truth a bit. After all, his extreme exhaustion was obvious to anyone. And if a little flirting helped, he told himself that it was all for a good cause, as was claiming a friendship with Harm that had never existed.

Later, after some sleep and a more substantial meal than snacks and soda out of the hospital vending machine, he would be able to think about exactly what he planned to say to Mac at their breakfast date. It would be hard to be sympathetic about what Harm was going through, but he recognized the need to at least show some concern about what the man was going through. While he wouldn't wish what had happened to Harm on anyone – he wasn't a heartless bastard, after all – if Harm were to just go away and to never be a part of their lives again, it would not bother him one bit.

In fact, Brumby and Brumby had been something of a step in that direction. True, his primary concern when starting the firm was to bring in some money after being fired from his old firm so that he wouldn't start married life dependent on his wife's income. But when he and Mac decided that it was time to start their family, wouldn't it be easier for Mac to be working with him in their own practice, where she could take as much or as little time as needed? Then he wouldn't have to think about her seeing Harm every day in the office, going away on investigations with him ….

He would show sympathy, since he didn't want to end up pushing Mac farther away than she already was, but above all he had to make sure she knew just what she meant to him. There were things he could give her that he didn't believe Harm could. He held no opinion on whether or not Harm truly loved Mac, or so he kept telling himself, but what kind of stability could Harm provide, especially when he seemed to attract trouble like a magnet?

Just in the time Mic had been in Washington, there'd been that business with the Stealth in Iran, thieves trying to cover their crimes aboard a carrier with sabotage, a murderous corpsman aboard a submarine, Clark Palmer, Charlie Lynch, Panama, a hijacking on the way to Korea, a second trip to Russia. He was sure there was a situation or two that didn't come to him off the top of his head. Not only had Harm been in danger all those times, but often Mac had been as well. What kind of life was that for a woman ready to start a family? Even if Harm did love her, it couldn't be as much as Mic did, or he wouldn't keep putting Mac into those situations.

He remembered what he'd heard about Harm's family shortly after his arrival at JAG, when the first Russian adventure was still a hot topic among the staff and he wondered what kind of man would willingly live a life that could possibly leave his wife a widow, just as his own mother had been. Mac needed a husband who would be there with her, not one who would spend his life chasing adventure all over the planet.

Lost in his thoughts as he walked towards the elevator, he almost missed the familiar head of blonde hair in the hotel's lounge. They'd gone to the hospital together, but he'd been unable to find her when he was ready to leave. He didn't know her cell phone number, so he'd decided to trust that she would find a way to the hotel, which she obviously had. Mildly curious as to how her visit with Harm had gone, he headed towards the lounge. Renee might be privy to some information that might help him keep Mac. Sleep could wait a little bit longer.

He sat down on the stool next to Renee at the bar, but she didn't even look up at him as she twirled an olive on a toothpick in her martini. Mic motioned for the bartender.

"What can I get you, sir?" the bartender asked.

"Got any Foster's?" Mic asked. The bartender nodded and bent down to retrieve a bottle, popping the top off before he set it in front of Mic.

Mic took a long swig of his beer as he studied Renee out of the corner of his eye. She still hadn't acknowledged his presence. Maybe it had finally gotten to her, he thought, the hours of waiting and worrying. She'd been nearly at the end of her rope when he'd last seen her at the hospital and he could only imagine what Harm's current condition might be.

Apparently bored with her olive, Renee popped it into her mouth, tossing the toothpick aside. With one long gulp, she tossed back the rest of the martini and motioned to the bartender. "Another one," she demanded, tapping a well-manicured fingernail on the bar.

Was Rabb that bad off, he wondered, noting that her words were slightly slurred. It was clear the drink she'd just downed wasn't her first. Turning to study her, he noticed her bloodshot eyes, but whether that was from tears or drink, he couldn't tell.

"Renee?" he asked, placing his hand on her arm. She jumped back at his touch, nearly losing her balance on the stool. Only Mic's quick reflexes kept her from falling backwards off her perch. Definitely on her way to being drunk, if she wasn't there already. "Did Rabb take a turn for the worse?"

"Wouldn't know," she replied with a dramatic sigh. The bartender finally came over and she motioned to her empty glass as she rambled on to Mic. "Never got to see him. You see, I'm not family. I've only been in love with this man for over a year, but because I don't have a ring on my finger, I couldn't even get past the front door before some nurse stopped me …. said she had a list and I wasn't on it. Wouldn't be surprised if Mac's the one who made up the list. She's his wife now, remember? I've been with him forever, but she's the one who gets to make all the decisions."

"Ma'am, I believe you've had enough," the bartender said when Renee paused for a breath. "How about some black coffee instead?"

"I don't think so," she countered. "Coffee ain't gonna make me forget. You see, my boyfriend …. well, I guess you can't call him my boyfriend anymore …."

Mic had the feeling he didn't really want to hear what she was about to say. "I think the coffee will be fine," he answered for her.

As Renee went on some more about how Mac got all the consideration and she got none, he motioned to the bartender. "How many of those has she had?" he whispered, although he really didn't have to - Renee appeared to be paying absolutely no attention to what he was doing.

"That was only her second martini," the bartender replied, just as quietly. At Mic's puzzled glance, he added, "After the two rum and cokes she started out with."

He nodded. "Bring the coffee and keep the pot on standby," he said. "I think she'll need it."

"Well, if you're not gonna bring me 'nother martini," Renee cut in, pouting, "how's 'bout bringing him one? He's gonna need something stronger than that swill he's drinking."

"Hey, that's good Aussie brew," he protested in a teasing manner, trying to draw her out of the funk she'd worked herself into. "Now that stuff you Yanks call beer – that's swill."

"Whatever," she muttered. The bartender set a cup of coffee in front of her, and then moved down to the far end of the bar to give them some privacy. Renee ignored the coffee, turning to face Mic. "So did you finally give up on Mac?"

"I haven't given up on anything," he replied, taking another sip of his beer. "Just came back here to get some sleep. I'm meeting Sarah for breakfast tomorrow so we can discuss where we go from here."

Renee leaned closer to him, as if preparing to share some great secret. "Actually," she confided in a conspiratorial whisper, "she's probably just meeting with you so she can let you down easy. Ha! This is supposed to be easy?"

"She said she wanted to see where things stood with Harm first," he countered. "She's not going to let me down."

"Come on," she said, "is that really what she said? She's already let you down! She married another man, remember? And on the same day the two of you…."

"She felt sorry for the bloke," he insisted.

"Well, that's not the way she made things sound to Harm's mother," she said, shaking her head. "You know, I told Harriet that I was hoping you wouldn't get hit by a bus…."

"Thanks," he replied, curious as to when that had come up as a topic. "I think."

She giggled, as if he'd just said something hilarious, her laughter quickly turning into hiccups. After she calmed down, she continued, "Then yesterday, when you couldn't keep track of your fiancée, the little devil voice inside me said that maybe I should have been praying Harm didn't get hit by one. I mean, he crashes his plane and she's nowhere to be found! But you know what? It doesn't matter!"

Mic reached over and pushed the coffee towards her. She was more drunk than he thought, because she was making less sense as the conversation wore on. He debated the wisdom of just escorting her to her room and heading to his to get some sleep. So far he hadn't learned much beyond the fact that Renee rambled when she was drunk, and as much as a few drinks might make him feel better as well, he was too tired to make the effort. "Drink your coffee, Renee," he said.

She pushed it away from her. "I'm not that drunk, Mic," she insisted as she wagged her finger at him. "I can hold my liquor. I'm just upset. No, that's not a strong enough word. I'm angry. No, better yet, I'm pissed off. I'd like to say I'm not going to take it anymore, but I can't. It's over."

"Look, mate," Mic said in a placating tone, "it's been a long night and we're tired. Get some sleep and things will look better later."

"That's easy for you to say," she said, jabbing his shoulder with each word to make the point. "You didn't hear Mac tell Harm's mother that she had no intention of marrying you yesterday, even before she up and decided to marry Harm."

Mic mentally counted to ten, reminding himself that by her own admission, she was pissed off. Add to that the drinks she'd consumed, and it was no wonder that she was lashing out. He probably just made the most convenient target right now. He could hardly hold that against her. "What did you expect her to say to Rabb's mother?" he rationalized, as much to himself as to her. "'I was promised to another man, but I married Harm because I felt sorry for him'?"

"Mic," she said, "when you were a boxer, weren't there times when you just had to admit you couldn't get up off the mat?"

"Of course," he replied, "not that it happened to me that often. But a person doesn't spend months planning a wedding and then suddenly turn around less than twelve hours before the happy occasion and decide to marry someone else."

"Okay," she conceded, the word coming out as little more than a croak as she hiccupped again, "let's suppose that's true. I'm not saying that it is, but let's just suppose. Do you think she'd stay away from him after you're married?"

"Of course," he replied. "She would be my wife."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Weren't you the one who told me that Mac cheated on her first husband?"

"They'd been separated for years when she had the affair with Colonel Farrow," he said.

"And what about Wednesday night?" she countered. "She was still your fiancée then."

"We don't know for sure that anything happened," he reminded her, trying to brush aside his own doubts about that night.

"Yeah, but there's a pretty strong …. what do you lawyers call it?" She glanced towards the ceiling, as if looking for the answer. "Oh, yeah, a circumstantial case. Or do you think she just got up in the middle of the night and decided for the hell of it to drive several hours to Norfolk just to have breakfast with Harm?"

"I don't know," he said. "I haven't had a chance to ask her yet."

"Look, Mic," she said, "I don't want to believe it either. I'd like to wake up and find out that I'm back in Washington, drifting off in the afterglow of some incredible sex with Harm, while you and Mac are on your honeymoon, planning future little Brumbys. But after everything I've seen and heard the last couple of days, I'm ready to admit that just is not going to happen."

"Fine, you give up then," he said, trying to banish the image that popped into his mind of Renee and Harm between the sheets. He tried to think instead of his favorite beach back home, imagining himself slathering sun block all over Sarah, who this time would be topless. He even knew of a few beaches where she could get by with wearing nothing at all. He'd have to work on making that one a reality when this was all over. "I can't. Rabb's been a part of her life for years, but he's never made a move towards her. I even asked him once and he said they weren't involved. I was the one she agreed to marry."

"You're a good friend, Mic Brumby," she said. "Probably the only one I've got here today. So believe that I'm saying this as your friend. Maybe it's time to cut your losses."

"I have to talk to Sarah," he insisted. He didn't want to lash out at Renee, and realizing that his temper was close to flaring, he decided to switch gears. "If you're not going to drink that coffee, why don't I escort you up to your room. You can sleep this off and maybe things will seem a little clearer later."

"I don't wanna sleep," she protested, even as she let Mic help her down from the stool. Watching her waver unsteadily now that she was on her feet, he pulled out his wallet and motioned to the bartender to settle their bill. Renee noticed as she faltered, grabbing onto his arm for support. "You don't have to do that."

"No worries," he replied. "It's on me." He put his wallet back in his pocket and threw an arm around her waist, leading her away from the bar. "What's your room number?"

"Don't wanna go there," she protested again.

"Come on," he said. "You need some sleep."

"Don't wanna sleep. Don't wanna dream," she said. "I might dream of Harm and the life I wanted for us and then I'll wake up and remember that that's never gonna happen."

Growing weary of going around in circles with her, he refrained from arguing that nothing was for sure yet. He wouldn't know anything until he could talk to Sarah. "Just give me your keycard," he said, his voice showing a hint of the strain he was under.

Renee fumbled around for a moment in her purse before producing the requested card. As he was hoping, it was still in the protective sleeve that it had been put in when given to her at check-in, with her room number written on the sleeve. She was on the floor below his. He could just drop her off at her room and then head to his own.

They somehow made their way across the lobby and into the elevator, although Renee wasn't of much help, Mic practically dragging her along. As soon as he released her to push the number for her floor, she slumped against the back wall of the elevator. "Mic, can I ask you something?" she asked as the doors closed.

At Mic's nod, she continued, "What makes you so sure everything's going to work out the way you want it to? How do you know that you're not going to meet Mac tomorrow only to have her tell you that it's over and she intends to stay with Harm?"

Mic didn't even have to think about it before he replied, "Because she agreed to marry me and she knows that I love her and can give her what she most wants in the world – stability, security, and a family. She'd never have to be alone again."

-----

THAT AFTERNOON  
NORFOLK NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

Mac sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the wall, her fingers playing with the strap of her purse as she waited impatiently for Dr. Stafford to arrive. Sarah sat next to her, Mac's free hand clasped in hers. Trish and Frank sat huddled together on the small sofa, Frank rubbing Trish's shoulder as he whispered to her. They'd arrived at the hospital prepared to be with Harm when he regained consciousness, only to be told by an ICU nurse that the doctor wanted to see them in his office before they saw Harm.

Stifling a yawn, Mac mentally calculated the time they'd been sitting there waiting. It had been eight minutes and fourteen seconds, an eternity when she was on the verge of collapse and all she wanted was to see Harm and reassure herself that he was on the mend.

After she'd checked into the VOQ, she'd been unable to sleep. Even though it was not the same room, and was even in a different building on a different part of the base, the room she was given was identical to the one she and Harm had spent the night in on Wednesday, right down to burnt orange flowers on the brown bedspread. She'd tried to sleep, but she'd been assaulted by images of that night – the way he'd pressed her against the door as soon as they'd entered his room, the heartbreaking expression on his face as they'd come together knowing that it might only be for that one night, how he'd trembled in her arms as they'd come down together off that magical high.

Not even an hour had passed before Mac had given up on getting any sleep. She'd quickly gotten dressed in her uniform, the only thing she had that was suitable for going out in public, and had set out to keep herself occupied until it was time to return to the hospital. First, she'd stopped at the base exchange to buy some clothes and necessities. She'd originally packed only enough for a couple of days, anticipating a short stay on the carrier, but now she was looking at a week or more in Norfolk before Harm was well enough to be transferred by helo to Bethesda.

She headed off base after changing into jeans and a t-shirt bought at the exchange. After a quick lunch at a nearby McDonalds, Mac had driven to the airfield and watched flight operations. Remembering the concerns Harm had expressed before his seizure, she'd pondered how much harder it would be for him to pass the flight physical now that he was dealing with more than just a third ejection and a severe case of hypothermia. She knew better than to count Harm out. He'd been told once before that he'd never fly as part of an active squadron again. She could never forget how that had ended up, a piece of her heart ripped from her when he'd walked out of JAG two years earlier, seemingly forever. This time, she would support him.

She was startled out of her revere by Sarah squeezing her hand. She opened her eyes, straightening in her chair as Dr. Stafford entered the office.

"I'm sorry for the delay," Dr. Stafford said, taking a seat behind his desk.

"Is there some kind of problem?" Mac asked tensely, voicing the thought that was on all their minds.

"On the contrary, I have some promising news," he assured them. He held up the folder in his hand. "I just got the results of Commander Rabb's latest CT scan from the radiologist. There's still a little swelling, which is normal after surgery but which has decreased since then. There's been no recurrence of bleeding."

"That means he's going to be okay?" Trish asked.

"The brain is probably the biggest mystery of the human body, Mrs. Burnett," Stafford replied, a note of caution in his tone, "so I am by no means ready to declare your son 'out of the woods', so to speak. We'll continue to monitor him closely for a few days. I am optimistic that his injury will heal physically, but what we can't know yet, and what I wanted to talk to you about before the Commander wakes up, are the possible side effects from his injury."

"Such as?" Mac asked tightly.

"Obviously," he continued, "there's likely to be some disorientation when he first wakes up, some confusion. He may even have some problems remembering things that happened right before his seizure, maybe even further back than that, to the crash itself. Just be patient. That kind of thing usually sorts itself out in time. There may be some concerns with his motor function. Those issues may improve on their own, but he can do physical therapy if they linger. He's certain to experience an increase in headaches, possibly even as severe as migraines. There may also be some problems with mood swings."

"Are we looking at temporary concerns," Frank asked, "or things that could possibly be permanent?"

"It could go either way," Stafford admitted. "I've seen patients after surgery like his run the gamut – from complete recovery to permanent physical and psychological issues. Now, that said, Commander Rabb does have several factors in his favor. He's healthy, keeps himself in shape, and from what I've been told by Dr. Reed and Father Gilly, he's a very strong-willed person. He's going to need all that. On the other hand, he has suffered head injuries in the past, which could make it harder to bounce back from this one."

"The _Hornet_," Mac whispered. That may not have been Harm's only head injury in the years she'd known him, but it had been the most severe until now. She remembered the fear that had risen in her throat, quickly forced down, when she'd found him unconscious on the deck. He'd spent two days in the hospital, but had seemed almost normal upon his release. She realized the point the doctor was trying to make, but she knew Harm. He didn't know how to quit. She had faith that he'd be back in the courtroom - and in the air not too long after that. She could not consider a different outcome and she knew Harm wouldn't either.

"So all we can do is wait and see," Sarah stated. It wasn't what they wanted to hear, but there wasn't a person in this room who would want the truth sugar-coated. "So what now?"

"That's the good news," Dr. Stafford said. "We did discontinue the Commander's sedation a few hours ago and he is experiencing an increased level of consciousness. He's not quite awake yet, but I expect he will be shortly. Also, we've been weaning him off the ventilator all day. His SIMV has been two for the last couple of hours, which is very good."

At their confused looks, he elaborated, "SIMV is basically the number of breaths per minute that the vent is forcing air in and out of his lungs. In other words, he's pretty much breathing on his own. A respiratory specialist will be on hand to remove the vent once the Commander regains consciousness. I understand from Dr. Reed he was already hoarse from all the time he spent in the water, and now he's had a breathing tube down his throat for the better part of a day. We won't let him talk too much yet. It will also give us a chance to evaluate some of his motor skills by seeing if he can write out what he wants to say."

"How long will we be able to stay with him?" Trish asked.

"Not too long, at least for now," Stafford replied. "Don't be surprised if he tires quickly. He may fall asleep not long after he regains consciousness. This is completely normal and he'll probably tire easily for some time to come during his recovery. I also understand the Commander's brother is arriving this evening."

"Last we heard," Mac explained, as Trish looked down at her lap, uncomfortable with the subject, "he's due to arrive sometime after 1900." Clay was supposed to call Mac either at the hospital or on her cell phone once they landed in New York to give her a firm arrival time in Norfolk.

"Since I'm sure you'll be back to see Commander Rabb then," Stafford continued, "we'll keep the visit short for now. If he feels up to it, perhaps a longer visit will be in order later this evening after his brother arrives, or more likely, tomorrow."

"Thank you, Doctor," Sarah replied. "Is there anything else we need to know about Harm's condition?"

"That should cover everything," he replied, "unless you have any specific questions."

"I think we'd all like to be with Harm now," Mac said for all of them.

-----

Harm was lying on his back when they entered his room, the head of his bed elevated to a forty-five degree angle. A woman in a Marine uniform was listening to his chest with a stethoscope while a nurse in hospital scrubs stood by. Mac studied the other Marine for any hint of Harm's condition, but the woman didn't seem overly concerned about anything as she straightened up and moved to the foot of the bed to make some notes in his chart. "This is Captain Fleming," Stafford introduced the Marine. "She's serving as the Commander's respiratory therapist. Nurse Downs is assisting her. Captain, Nurse, this is Commander Rabb's wife, Colonel Rabb; his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Burnett; and his grandmother, Mrs. Rabb."

"How is he, Captain?" Mac asked as she pulled up a chair to the head of the bed, sinking wearily into it.

"His breath sounds are good, Colonel," she replied, handing the chart to Stafford so he could read her notes. "Pneumonia is still a concern because of the length of time he was in the water and the setbacks he's had. His system is depressed due to all the trauma, but steps were already being taken before the seizure to guard against pneumonia, so I'm hopeful that we can hold off an infection. He's breathing on his own, for the most part, so we're going to remove the vent after he regains consciousness."

"So Dr. Stafford said," Mac said as she took one of Harm's hands in hers. It still felt slightly chilled, but nowhere near as cold as it had been in the hours after he'd been pulled from the water. The rest of the family settled around the bed, Sarah sitting beside Mac, while Trish and Frank took up positions on the other side of the bed. Trish clasped Harm's other hand, careful not to pull the IV tubing going into that arm.

"You should talk to him," Fleming continued. "When he regains consciousness, with his likely disorientation, it's possible he's going to fight the tube in his throat. If he hears familiar voices as he wakes up, it will help calm him until we can remove the vent."

Mac stroked his hand. There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn't know where to begin. Her fingers traced the contours and plains of his hand as she tried to find the words. His hands were so strong, she mused, and they could be so gentle, but the hand she held felt so limp in hers. "Oh, Harm," she whispered, fighting back tears. "I'm here, Harm. So are your parents and you grandmother. We all love you and we just want you to come back to us."

"That's right, Darling," Trish added. "We're here for you, as long as you need us."

The others added their own words of encouragement, pleading with him to wake up. This went on for close to ten minutes with no sign of further consciousness from Harm. Finally, Mac thought she felt his fingers move against hers. She glanced up at his face, but could see no sign that he was waking up. Looking across the bed at Trish, she saw her watching Harm as well, a hopeful expression on her face. "Did you feel that, too?" Mac asked.

At Trish's nod, Mac looked back at Harm. "Harm, your mom and I are both holding your hands," she said. "Can you squeeze our hands? Come on, Harm. You can do this."

This time, when Mac felt the slight pressure of his fingers curling around hers, his eyelids fluttered. "That's it," she encouraged him. "It's time to wake up. Open your eyes, Harm."

Harm slowly turned his head towards the sound of her voice, struggling to do as she asked. He managed to halfway open his eyes before the lids fluttered closed again. Mac felt his fingers tense in hers as he almost imperceptibly started struggling, his mouth trying to move.

"The vent," Fleming reminded her.

"Harm, it's okay," Mac assured him, while Trish stroked his temple soothingly. "You're on a ventilator, but the doctor said that it will be taken out shortly. Just open your eyes."

The sound of her voice seemed to calm him, as he relaxed his hand in hers. His eyelids still fluttered, and Mac mentally counted eighty-six seconds before he managed to open his eyes all the way, his gaze focusing on her immediately. She lifted her hand to her mouth, overcome with emotion as she felt Sarah clasp her shoulder. Frank sighed with relief as he and Trish leaned against each other. "Welcome back," Mac whispered.

His eyes blinked slowly as he turned his head slightly to take in each of them in turn. He focused on his mother last, his eyes clouding at the sight of the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm just so happy to see you," Trish assured him, recognizing the direction of his thoughts.

"Commander, this is Dr. Stafford," Stafford said from his position at the end of the bed. Harm slowly turned his gaze in that direction in silent acknowledgement. "Good, Commander."

Stafford glanced at Fleming, who nodded as she moved to the head of the bed between Trish and the wall, the nurse taking up a similar position on the other side of the bed next to Mac. "Commander, I'm Captain Fleming," she said. "We're going to remove the vent now. After I've removed the tape securing your endotracheal tube in place, Nurse Downs is going to suction the tube and your pharynx. When I tell you to, I want you to take a deep breath and then cough while I remove the tube. I'm going to then put an oxygen mask on you. I just want you to breathe normally. If there are no signs of respiratory distress, I'll remove the mask."

She turned to Mac. "Colonel," she said, "there's a cup of shaved ice and a spoon on the table behind you. After the mask has been removed, you can give him some to help moisten his throat before he attempts to speak."

Quickly and efficiently, they went about their work removing the ventilator. As the tube was pulled from Harm's throat, he squeezed Mac's hand almost painfully. "I know it's painful," she whispered, "but it's over now. Just try to relax."

As the oxygen mask was fitted over his nose and mouth, Harm's hold on Mac's hand eased. She pulled her hand from his, shaking it out to restore the circulation. "Some grip you've got there, sailor," she said in a half-teasing tone, trying to sound relaxed.

"Okay, Commander," Stafford said, moving to stand beside Frank, and holding out his hand to Harm, "I want you to try to squeeze my fingers with your left hand as hard as you can. As Harm did so, Stafford commented, "Your wife's correct. That's some grip." He took a pen out of his lab coat pocket. "I want you to try to follow this with your eyes without moving your head." Harm did as he was told, the doctor nodding as his eyes followed the pen perfectly. "Are you right-handed or left-handed?"

Harm lifted his right arm slightly off the bed in reply. Stafford held the pen out to him, Harm taking it and gripping it as if to write. The nurse took a notepad off the table and set it on Harm's lap. "Commander," Stafford said, "I'm going to ask you some simple questions and I want you to write your answers. What is your name?"

_Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr._

His handwriting was a bit shakier than normal, but his response was readable and there was no pause as if he was trying to think about what he was writing. "Okay, Commander," Stafford continued as he glanced at Harm's chart. "What is your date of birth?"

_25 October 1963_

Stafford glanced at the chart to confirm the answer. "Good. Do you know why you're here?"

Harm paused, his brow furrowing in concentration. Finally he wrote two words on the pad, but Mac thought he looked like he wasn't quite satisfied with his answer.

Stafford noticed his expression and assured him, "Don't worry. 'Plane crash' is what I'm looking for right now. I don't expect you to know why you woke up in Portsmouth when the last thing you probably remember is being on the carrier. Who are the ladies sitting on your right side?"

_Sarah Rabb_

Stafford waited, a concerned look in his eyes when Harm didn't write anything else. Then a look of comprehension appeared. Both of the ladies on his right were named Sarah Rabb. "Maybe that was a little too easy," he conceded. "Who's sitting to your left?"

_My parents, Trish and Frank Burnett_

"Very good, Commander," Stafford said, making some notes in the chart. He glanced at Fleming, nodding towards the oxygen mask.

She nodded and removed the mask. Harm started to open his mouth to speak, but Fleming shook her head. "Not just yet, Commander. Colonel?"

Mac turned to grab the cup, spooning some ice up. She turned back and held the spoon towards Harm's mouth. She could see the frustration in his eyes at having to be spoon-fed, but he took the ice without complaint. She fed him a few more spoonfuls before he shook his head. She glanced at Dr. Stafford, setting the cup and spoon back down after he nodded.

"Commander," Stafford requested. "Please tell where you work."

Harm swallowed hard a couple of times before answering in a whispered croak, "JAG HQ, Falls Church, Virginia."

At the doctor's puzzled look, Mac explained in a quiet voice, "He does work at JAG, but he keeps up his flight status. He'd just finished his carrier landing qualifications and was leaving the carrier when – when he went down."

"Okay," Stafford said, turning his attention back to Harm. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Harm's brow furrowed in concentration. "I was on the carrier," he whispered after a moment. He looked at Mac, the corners of his mouth turning upward. "I asked you to marry me." The smile quickly turned to a frown. "No, you're Sarah Rabb now. I married you, right?"

"Yes, you did," Mac replied, swallowing hard. She glanced at the doctor, but he smiled reassuringly at her. She remembered what he'd said about some disorientation and relaxed slightly. She realized that Harm had a ways to go before he was his normal self.

"But how did I …." His voice trailed off and he studied Mac for a long moment before he continued, "How did I get back to the carrier? I left …. I was going back to Washington …. I called you?"

"You called me before you left the carrier," Mac confirmed. "But you crashed on the way back to Norfolk and you were taken back to the carrier."

"And….?" Harm asked. "The doctor said …. this is Portsmouth?"

"That's correct, Commander," Stafford said. "You suffered a head injury during the crash and you were brought here by helo for surgery."

"But …. my helmet?" Harm asked, his hand going to the back of his head where his surgical incision was covered by a bandage.

Mac looked down at the floor before answering. "The Coast Guard said that you weren't wearing it when they pulled you up. Don't worry about it. It will probably come back to you. I'm sure there's an explanation for why you weren't wearing it."

Harm looked at her dubiously, but Trish added, "She's right, darling. Just concentrate on getting better. There'll be plenty of time later to try and figure out exactly what happened."

"But …." Harm began.

"That's enough talking, Commander," Stafford interrupted. "You can spend a few more minutes with your family, but then you need to get some rest. Tomorrow, we'll run some tests to make sure that there are no complications from your injury and surgery, but things look promising so far."

"So when can I get out of here?" Harm whispered.

The question brought chuckles and grins to his family. "Figures that you would have a problem following doctor's orders," Mac teased.

"Slow down, Commander," Stafford said. "You're going to be our guest in ICU for a couple of days, at least. After that, we'll see, but I'd plan on spending at least a week in the hospital."

"Just concentrate on getting better," Mac said when she noticed Harm roll his eyes at the doctor's last statement. "We'll all be here until you get out of the hospital. Consider it a chance to spend some long-overdue quality time with your family."

"I have some other patients to look in on," Stafford said, "so I'm going to leave you to spend just a little more time with your family. I'll stop back by later this evening to see how you're doing."

"Thank you, Doctor," Harm whispered before Stafford left the room.

Trish sighed heavily and Harm turned to her, reaching for her hand. "Sorry," Harm said. "I …."

Trish waved him off. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she assured him. "I'm just relieved …."

"We all are," Frank added when Trish couldn't go on. "It's been a long couple of days for all of us, but the important thing is that you're back with us."

"Thanks, Frank," Harm whispered. He looked at his grandmother, who had been largely silent so far. "Gram?"

"You know what I'm going to say," Sarah said. "Don't worry about us and …."

"Just focus on taking care of myself," Harm finished softly, his eyelids drooping.

"And now you can focus on taking care of yourself by getting some rest," Sarah added. "The doctor said you'd likely fall asleep not long after waking up."

"She's right," Mac forced herself to respond. She wasn't ready to leave Harm yet, but she knew that he needed his rest. Maybe now she'd be able to get some sleep herself, now that she'd spoken to Harm and knew that he was getting better. "Get some sleep. The doctor said we could come back this evening after supper, and if you're up to it, we'll get to spend more time with you then."

"'kay," Harm murmured, his eyes closing. They each took turns kissing his forehead, or in Frank's case, clasping Harm's hand. As they turned to walk out, Harm reached a hand out, calling softly, "Mac…."

The others left the room to give them a moment. Mac sat back down on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in hers. "What is it, Harm?" she asked.

His eyes opened, his gaze focused intently on hers. "Renee?" he asked quietly.

Mac swallowed, wondering what to say. Now was not the time to deal with this, but he probably wouldn't let her put him off too much. "She's here in Norfolk," she finally said, looking down at their clasped hands, "although I think she's headed off to her hotel for now. They're not letting anyone but family in right now."

"She knows?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Mac replied. "She found out when she got here last night."

"Mic, too?"

"He arrived at the same time she did, so yes," she answered. "I agreed to meet with him tomorrow morning for breakfast to explain everything."

"Sorry," he whispered. "I wish I could help you with this. I guess I'll need to talk to Renee sometime."

"Don't worry about it," she said, her tone a little too bright. If Harm noticed, he didn't let on. "I can handle Mic. My life is with you now and he's going to have to accept that. And Renee will just have to understand that you're not up to explaining things to her yet."

She leaned over, brushing her lips against his. "I love you," she said as she pulled away.

He flashed her his familiar grin briefly before his eyes closed again. "As if I could forget," he murmured. "Love you, too."

-----

1935 HOURS LOCAL  
INTENSIVE CARE UNIT  
PORTSMOUTH NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

"Gram," Mac greeted her in the hallway as she arrived. Sarah enveloped her in a warm hug, and then led her into the waiting room to sit down. "Were you waiting for me?"

"I wanted to be out here when my grandson arrives," Sarah replied. "Trish and Frank went in already to see Harm. They were going to tell him that we each wanted to see him separately, so that he didn't wonder where you and I are. He still doesn't know Sergei is coming."

"Good," Mac replied.

"What time did Mr. Webb say they'd get here?" Sarah asked.

"Should be anytime now," Mac replied. "They were a little late landing because of the weather. It won't take long to get here from the airport, and I would assume Clay would already have transportation arranged, so they should have been able to leave there pretty quickly."

"While we're waiting," Sarah said, "why don't you give me your impressions of Sergei?"

"I would have thought Harm would have told you all about him already," Mac countered.

"He has," Sarah explained, "but that's from a brother's perspective. I've always thought Harm would make a wonderful big brother. As you know, he has such a big heart and such compassion. But I'm interested in an outside perspective, so to speak."

"Well," Mac said, gathering her thoughts, "he's very well-mannered. He's definitely got his brother's stubbornness. After Harm introduced Sergei as his brother, I could see the resemblance. Not in the way Sergei looks. I'm sure you've seen pictures, so you know he's blonde and quite a bit smaller than Harm. There's something in his eyes though, that reminds me of Harm."

"They have their father's eyes," Sarah said.

"But there's something else," Mac continued. "He seemed so …. I don't know …. settled, I guess. In all the years I've known Harm, I've never seen him like that."

"I think that Sergei didn't grow up with the uncertainty that Harm did," Sarah mused. "He never had to wonder what happened to his father. He knew his entire life that his father died before he was born. In a way, I guess Sergei never knew what he was missing, not the way Harm did."

"I wonder what Harm would have been like if he'd grown up with that kind of certainty," Mac wondered.

Sarah didn't get a chance to reply, as a nurse stepped into the room. "Colonel Rabb," she said to Mac, "there are two gentlemen here to see you." She stepped aside to let Clay and Sergei enter the room.

"Colonel," Sergei greeted Mac, his eyes going wide as he looked past her to Sarah. "Grandma?"

Sarah, with tears in her eyes, nodded, rising to meet him halfway across the room. They threw their arms around each other, hugging tightly. Mac smiled as she watched the union.

"Too bad Harm isn't in here to see this," Mac mused as Clay sat down next to her.

"How is Harm doing?" Clay asked.

"He's fine," Mac replied. "I haven't seen him since before I spoke to you earlier, but Trish and Frank are in with him now. They're keeping Harm distracted until Gram and I come in with Sergei."

"He doesn't know his brother's here?" Clay asked in surprise.

"Gram and I talked this morning when the Admiral took us to pick up Harm's car and mine from the air field," she explained. "We thought it would be a nice surprise for him, after everything that's happened."

"And how are you doing, Mac?" Clay asked.

"I'm fine," she insisted, "just worried about Harm. It's been a rough couple of days."

"So I understand," Clay said, "and not just because of the crash."

"I guess," Mac said evasively, not wanting to get into it with him. She wasn't up to dealing with Clay's usual smart-aleck comments. "So what's Sergei's situation? How long can he stay here?"

"He's on a standard 90-day visitor's visa," Clay explained. "If that's not enough time to establish paternity, we can get a six-month extension later. Sergei has an international driver's license along with his Russian one, but I didn't arrange a car for him since he doesn't know his way around here, and I figured he'd be spending most of his time with his family. A.J. got him checked into the same VOQ that you're at, which will make transportation easier."

"Thank you," Mac said. "I'm sure Harm will be grateful as well, for everything you've done. He didn't take it very well when Sergei disappeared and when he found out Sergei was a prisoner …. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what kind of memories that brought up."

"Look," Clay said, rising, "I need to get back to Washington. Tell Rabb ….."

"I know," Mac said, sparing him from getting emotional. "Are you going to be available by cell phone? I'm sure Harm will want to thank you himself when he's able."

"Tell him not to worry about it," Clay said with a shrug. "I'll just remind him later that he owes me another one."

-----

Sarah took a step back, studying her grandson critically. Even through the clothes he wore, she'd felt bones poking out when they'd hugged. She had a job ahead of her putting some meat back on him. "After Harm's better," she said, "you'll have to come up to the farm. You need some good home cooking to fatten you up. Harm and Mac can come too. I'm sure they'll be able to use the time away from Washington."

Sergei smiled. "You remind me of my mother, Grandma," he said. "She always thinks I need to eat more."

"Sounds like your mother is a smart woman," Sarah said. "Does she know you've been released?"

"Yes, Grandma," he replied. "Mr. Webb let me call her from the airport in Moscow. She is sad that I'm not coming home, but she understands why I needed to come to see Harm. She said that she hopes he will be well soon."

"Sorry to interrupt," Clay said, stepping up to them, "but I need to get back to Washington, so I'll leave you with your family now."

"Mr. Webb," Sergei said, "this is my grandmother, Sarah Rabb. Grandma, this is Mr. Clayton Webb. He works for your State Department."

"I've heard a lot about you from Harm, Mr. Webb," Sarah said in a tone that said she knew exactly what kind of work he did for the government. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for what you've done for my grandsons."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Rabb," he replied graciously as she reached up to kiss his cheek. "Good luck to your family."

"Hello, Colonel," Sergei said as Mac joined them after Clay walked out. He kissed both of her cheeks in greeting. "It is good to see you again."

"I'm glad to see you, too," Mac replied, "but please. Call me Mac. We're family now. And speaking of which, are you ready to see Harm?"

"How is he?" Sergei asked. "When we spoke to you from New York, you said that Harm had woken up?"

"Yes," Mac replied, "A few hours before I spoke to you. Gram and I haven't seen him yet this evening since we've been waiting for you, but the nurse said he's doing okay. He's been sleeping on and off since we saw him earlier, according to her. Trish and Frank, Harm's mother and stepfather, are in with him right now."

"They know I am here?" Sergei asked worriedly.

"Yes," Sarah said, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. "They've known since shortly after Mr. Webb called the Admiral this morning and told him that you'd been released. Don't worry. It will be fine. Frank knows a thing or two about trying to fit in with a ready-made family. As for Trish …."

"I am the son of her late husband with another woman," Sergei pointed out.

"Look, I'm not going to say that Trish is going to welcome you with open arms," Sarah said, "but she realizes that you are both here because you love Harm. It will just take her some time to get used to having you around. And if you need to, you can talk to me or to Mac."

"Of course," Mac agreed. "Trish loves her son and once she sees how much you love him too, I think it will be easier for her."

-----

Mac knocked on the door to Harm's room, then pushed it open, sticking her head inside. Harm turned to her immediately, a smile on his face. "I was beginning to think that Mom and Frank were the only ones here to see me," he said, his voice not as hoarse as it was earlier, although it still wasn't as clear as his regular speaking voice.

"Not quite," Mac said, stepping into the room. She closed the door behind her, but remained standing there, her hand on the doorknob. "In fact, Gram and I have been waiting for a surprise visitor to arrive. That's why your parents came in first."

"Who?" Harm asked. "I thought they were still only letting family in."

"They are," Mac said mysteriously.

"But …." Harm began as she turned around and opened the door, stepping aside as Sarah entered, followed by Sergei. Mac smiled as Harm's eyes widened at the sight of his brother, his smile brighter.

"Sergei!" he said, struggling to push himself into a sitting position, ignoring the cries of "Harm!" from Mac, Trish and Sarah as he grabbed his head. Ignoring the pain, he finally managed to sit up as Sergei sat on the edge of the bed. The brothers embraced, Harm's eyes squeezed shut as tears fell down Sergei's face.

After a moment, Sergei pulled away, gently helping his brother lay back as Harm opened his eyes. "It is good to see you, Harm," Sergei said, blinking back tears.

"Hey, I'm fine," Harm tried to assure him, his breathing a little heavy at the exertion of sitting up. "Besides, you don't look much better than I do."

"I am uninjured," Sergei said.

"No, you're just skin and bones," Harm pointed out, his eyes closing.

Sergei looked back at Sarah. "Grandma has said that she will take care of …. fattening me up," he said.

"And Harm will probably need some good food, too," Sarah said, "after spending at least a week in this place. Trish, Frank, this is Sergei Zhukov. Sergei, this is Harm's mother, Trish Burnett, and her husband, Frank."

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Burnett," Sergei said, trying to mask his nervousness. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"It's good to meet you, too, Sergei," Frank said, shaking Sergei's hand.

Hesitantly, Sergei turned to Trish, holding out his hand. She took it after a moment, managing a half-smile. "It's good to meet you, too," she said. "I know Harm is very happy to see you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Burnett," Sergei replied.

Sergei looked at his brother, concerned. "Perhaps I should come back tomorrow," he said. "Harm is asleep."

"No, I'm not," Harm protested, although his eyes didn't open. "Anyway, you just got here."

"But the doctor said we could stay longer tonight only if you are up to it," Sarah said firmly. "You've been fighting to keep your eyes open just in the few minutes that Mac, Sergei and I have been in here, and I'd be willing to bet that you also were when Trish and Frank were visiting with you."

"Your grandmother knows you too well," Trish said.

"Traitor," Harm murmured.

"Why don't I make it an order, Commander?" Mac interjected in a half-teasing tone. "You get as much sleep as you can tonight. If you can keep your eyes open for more than a couple of minutes at a time tomorrow, we'll stay longer."

"I will still be here tomorrow, Harm," Sergei said. "Mr. Webb has arranged a ninety-day visa for me."

"Should have known Webb had something to do with this," Harm said tiredly. "Someone make sure to tell him thanks from me."

"I already did," Mac assured him, "and he said that he'll remind you later that you owe him another one." When Harm was too exhausted to even chuckle, she added, "We'll see you tomorrow, okay? As soon as they'll let us in, we'll all be here."

Harm didn't reply, having fallen asleep. Quietly, they all left the room, Sergei murmuring in Russian. As he stopped just outside Harm's room, he noticed Sarah, Trish and Frank all giving him puzzled looks. "I am sorry," he stammered, "it is just …."

"That's not the Harm you remember from Chechnya," Mac finished for him. "Even knowing what he's been through, you still expect him to be the same stubborn, take-charge man he's always been."

"Yes," Sergei said softly.

"Sergei, have you eaten anything recently?" Trish asked as they started towards the elevators.

"A meal was served on the airplane," Sergei replied a little warily, "but that was many hours ago."

Frank shot an approving glance at his wife. "We've been catching up on sleep today," he continued, "so we agreed to go get something to eat after visiting Harm. You're welcome to join us. Or if you want to sleep, we can drop you off at your hotel."

"Mr. Webb said that he made arrangements for me to stay at the same place you are staying," Sergei said. "I am hungry. I will join you."

"Good," Frank said. "Mac, since I'm sure you've been down here many times, maybe you can pick a good restaurant for us. Nothing fancy, just good casual dining."

"There's an Applebee's just a few miles from the Naval Shipyard," Mac said. "Harm and I often eat there if we're staying at the shipyard VOQ."

"Fine with me," Sarah said, putting an arm around Sergei. "We can give Sergei his first taste of American dining and we can all get to know each other better."

----

To be continued….


	11. Chapter 11

MONDAY MORNING  
28 MAY 2001  
0653 LOCAL  
IHOP RESTAURANT  
NOFOLK, VIRGINIA

As Mac walked across the parking lot to the restaurant entrance, she could see through the windows that Mic was already inside, sitting in the waiting area. _Okay, MacKenzie_, she thought, _you can get through this, hopefully with a minimum of blood shed_. The previous night, before she'd crawled into bed, she'd paced across the floor of her room, trying to rehearse what she was going to say, as she might rehearse an argument she would make in court, but she couldn't come up with the right words. After all, she'd never really done this before.

True, she'd had relationships end before, but not like this. With both Chris and John, the relationship had ended due to circumstances – Chris had been sent to jail and she'd been transferred away from John. They hadn't actually broken up in the way most people thought of a break up. They'd simply gone their separate ways with few words. With Dalton, the breakup was so sudden, a knee-jerk reaction to his betrayal, that they'd never really discussed it. She'd simply ordered him out of her life. They might have discussed it at their planned meeting at McMurphy's – Dalton had certainly wanted to - but Detective Coster had intervened with the bullet that had ended Dalton's life.

Mac knew Mic wasn't going to let her just walk away with an 'it's been nice knowing you,' nor did he deserve such a cavalier statement. He'd put his heart and soul into their relationship, even when she couldn't, and it was going to be hard for him to just walk away. He'd given up so much for her and she was about to repay him by ripping his heart out of his chest and stomping on it before handing it back to him in pieces. It was up to her to try to soften the blow as much as possible.

_I shouldn't have led him on_, she told herself, _made him think that I was could give him more than I was capable of._

She'd tried. Oh, how she'd tried to be the woman he wanted her to be, but maybe Harriet had been correct on Friday, when she'd said that she'd let Mic basically blackmail her into moving the ring over. Maybe he'd played on the sacrifices he'd made for her. He'd given up his career in the Navy and moved halfway around the world – for her. He'd given up his job at his swanky law firm – for her friends. With few prospects left for him in Washington, he'd talked about going back to Australia. What woman could stand up under that kind of pressure?

She couldn't place the blame for what had happened completely on his shoulders, however. She'd thought that Harm was leaving, resigning his commission to go look for Sergei. She couldn't hang on to Harm, so she'd clung to what Mic was offering her with a such ferocity. In retrospect, it did appear that finally accepting Mic's proposal had more to do with Harm's leaving than with wanting to spend the rest of her life with Mic. What kind of person had she become that she was so desperate not to be alone that she would hurt Mic so badly by nearly saddling him with a wife who could never love him the way he deserved to be loved?

She'd finally willed herself to sleep by telling herself that if there was an upside to this, it was that this had all come out before the wedding. Harm's words on Wednesday evening, shortly before they'd taken the plunge that had set them irrevocably on this course, had echoed in her mind….

_And how long can this go on before the circumstances arise when it is just you and me, with nothing and no one around to tell us no?_

Would she and Harm have been able to stay away from each other, even while she was wearing a gold band as a symbol of her vows to another? She'd turned the question over in her mind as she'd tossed and turned half the night away and she'd come to a simple conclusion just as she'd drifted off to sleep. Even if she'd been able to remain physically faithful to her marriage, she'd have never been able to do so spiritually. There always would have been a part of her soul lost to what might have been with the man she truly loved.

Mic didn't deserve to live with that. He had so much love to give and he deserved to have that love returned in equal measure by a woman who would mean it with her whole heart when she promised to love, honor, and cherish. She knew now that as much as she'd tried to make herself fit into that mold, she couldn't force this square peg into the round hole of a marriage to Mic. Now, she would have to make him see that as gently as she possibly could.

Squaring her shoulders, she pulled the door open and stepped into the restaurant. Mic caught sight of her immediately and rose to meet her, a broad smile on his face. "Morning, love," he said as he kissed her cheek. She accepted the gesture, mentally saying a prayer of gratitude that he hadn't tried for more as he had the morning before. She did not want to start out with a scene over his loving, if now unwelcome, attentions before they even sat down for breakfast. "I went ahead and put us down for a table."

"Good," she said, managing a weak smile in return. "Did they say about how long it would be?"

"Should be any time now," he replied, glancing at his watch. "When I arrived, the lass at the counter said it would be about a ten minute wait and it's been about that now."

"Good," she repeated. She didn't want to sit in the waiting area too long, forced to make polite, uncomfortable small talk. At least at the table, they'd have a bit more space to talk about what needed to be discussed, but with just enough of a lack of privacy that she hoped Mic wouldn't make a scene.

"Brumby, party of two," the hostess said brightly as she grabbed two menus from under the counter.

Mic motioned for Mac to move ahead of him, placing his hand on the small of her back. She tried not to squirm as they followed the hostess to the non-smoking section of the restaurant, tried not to think about the innumerable ways in which his touch was different from Harm's. She had to focus on the here and now. She had to give Mic her full attention, not the distraction of a woman whose heart and mind were back at the hospital. After this was over, she would gladly focus her entire being on Harm. This was Mic's time.

The hostess led them a two-person booth next to a window, setting menus in front of them as they sat down. "Your waiter will be with you in a minute," she said before leaving them alone.

Mac opened her menu, pretending to study it. She wasn't really that hungry. She usually ate breakfast on the run, at least when she was working, and the previous night, under Sarah's gentle urging, she'd managed to eat a full dinner and dessert. It had been more food than she'd eaten in at least the last week, and with all the stress she was under, it hadn't settled well in her stomach.

Feeling Mic's eyes on her, she glanced over the top of her menu to find him staring at her, or rather, staring at the patch on the left front of Harm's leather flight jacket. There wasn't anything she could do about it. She was a little chilly and Harm's jacket had been the only one she'd brought with her to Norfolk. She'd needed that tangible connection to him when he'd been lost. It wasn't as if Mic didn't know she was with Harm now.

She thought Mic looked like he was about to say something, but their waiter appeared at Mac's side. "What can I get you folks to drink?" he asked.

"Coffee is fine," Mac said, stifling a yawn with a hand over her mouth.

"I'll have the same," Mic said, tearing his gaze away from Mac to address the waiter.

"I'll bring your cups right out," the waiter said. "Are you ready to order or do you need some more time?"

"I'll just have a couple of sausage patties," Mac said, closing her menu and handing it back to the waiter.

"Sarah, you need to eat more than that," Mic insisted. "I'll order a dish large enough for both of us to share."

He turned to the waiter and handed over his own menu. "I'll have the breakfast sampler," he said, "eggs sunny side up, mate." The waiter wrote down their order and left them alone.

Mac resisted the urge to shake her head. "I'm not hungry," she said. "I don't usually eat a large breakfast, and I did have a large dinner last night."

"Where did you eat?" Mic asked as the waiter returned with their coffee cups. Mic grabbed the carafe already sitting on the table and poured some coffee in Mac's cup before doing the same to his own. "You should've called me, and I would've gone with you."

Mac took a sip of her coffee, trying not to shudder at the weakness of the brew, as she tried to phrase her response in her mind. "Actually, Mic," she said finally, "I had a late dinner with Harm's family to celebrate Sergei's arrival and Harm's improvement." At Mic's blank look, she clarified, "Harm's brother."

"Thought he was in a prison camp somewhere in Chechnya," Mic commented in an even tone.

Mac shrugged, slightly curious as to his interest, but it wasn't really a topic to pursue. "Somehow, Clayton Webb managed to workout some kind of deal for his release," she explained. "Neither Sergei nor Clay offered any details."

"So Rabb's doing better," he remarked.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Mac said, not quite able to disguise the worry in her tone. "He woke up yesterday afternoon and he was awake for a short time last night when Sergei arrived, but he's mostly been sleeping. They're going to run some tests this morning, but based on his responses yesterday, the doctor doesn't seem to be too concerned about any cognitive impairment. He probably will be in the hospital for at least a week if all continues to go well, although I'm sure it'll be a while before he's well enough to return to work."

"Well, that's good," Mic said. "I'm sure Rabb will be back in the courtroom before you know it. I know you've been very worried about him."

"Yeah," Mac murmured as Mic went on, oblivious to her soft response.

"I can understand how hard it has been for you, seeing your friend in such a situation," he continued. "You want to do anything to help him feel better. I'm sure that explains everything."

"Of course," Mac said warily, wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. Mic had his good points, but compassion and understanding regarding her relationship with Harm had never been one of them, even before the events of the last few days.

"Maybe you thought he was going to die when he asked you to marry him," he went on, ignoring her discomfiture. "Certainly understandable that you responded the way you did to what might have been a deathbed wish. Of course, it does complicate things. I'll have to do some research into the validity of the marriage. It's possible the Church might not see it as valid under the circumstances, even if the ceremony was performed by a Catholic priest. If they do consider it legitimate, then that's just a hurdle we'll have to overcome. I'm not sure how long it will take for an annulment …."

"Wait a minute," Mac said. Feeling the eyes of the other patrons on her at her raised tone, she moderated her voice, dropping it to just above a whisper. "Who said anything about an annulment?"

"It's understood," Mic replied in a placating tone. "Of course, it will be easier to plan a new date for our wedding if we don't have to worry about officially dissolving your marriage to Rabb. We can pick any date we want to hold the ceremony. We'll just have to delay things a bit if you have to go the annulment route. I hope it doesn't come to that, but we'll deal with it if it does."

Mac stared at him, slack-jawed, unable to believe what she was hearing. She'd expected him to be hurt. She could've understood if he'd been angry, but she'd never anticipated that he would blithely go on as if her marriage to Harm was simply a minor bump in the road to their own matrimonial plans. Harriet's words from Friday night echoed in her mind.

_Commander Rabb was right, when he agreed to back off and let you make your decision. He can't make it for you, any more than Mic should have been able to make your decision regarding his marriage proposal and that's what he did for all intents and purposes._

It was suddenly clear to her what Mic was doing. He thought that she wanted the same things he did, so he was telling her how she was going to end her marriage to Harm and marry him instead. He was just assuming that they were of one mind, as he'd done for most of their relationship.

"Mic, I'm married to Harm," Mac reminded him, still hoping that she could get him to see reason somehow. She just had to hold her position. "It's my duty as his wife to take care of him. 'In sickness and in health,' remember?"

"Sarah," he said with exaggerated patience, "Rabb doesn't need you to take care of him. His parents are here, and so is his grandmother - and I'm sure they're not planning to go anywhere until Rabb is better. And now with his brother here, he has all the help he could possibly want. He doesn't need you, but I do."

"Harm does need me," Mac said with more patience than she felt, "and I need him. I didn't realize how much until …. " She trailed off, afraid of saying too much. She couldn't predict how Mic would react if he knew exactly when she'd come to that conclusion. It wouldn't benefit anyone for him to know what had transpired Wednesday night.

Fortunately, she was saved from continuing when their waiter returned with their breakfasts. He set their meals in front of them, and then quickly left again after making sure everything was satisfactory.

"But we love each other," Mic pointed out as soon as the waiter had gone. "We've been planning our wedding for months."

"I love Harm," she blurted out, drawing stares from the other customers. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she studied Mic for any clue as to what he was thinking, but his face was impassive, revealing nothing. In a quieter voice, she repeated, "I love Harm. I married him because I wanted to, and I want to stay married to him."

"For the last five months," he countered, "you've loved me and wanted to marry me. Now you expect me to believe that all of a sudden you wanted to marry Rabb? When exactly did you come to this conclusion? When Rabb was at death's door?"

"Mic," Mac said in exasperation, taking a deep breath. The conversation was quickly getting out of control. She decided to try a different tact. "Isn't it better that I came to this conclusion now, rather than after we were already married? I don't want to hurt you, but it's better that we recognize the truth now instead of later."

"So it's better that you cheated on me before the wedding," he sneered, "rather than after?"

Mac stared at him in shock, rendered mute. When she finally found her voice, it was barely above a whisper. "How did you know?" she asked.

He reached behind him and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "To be honest," he replied angrily, "I wasn't sure until just now." He took a piece of paper out of the wallet and held it out to her. As she reached for it, he continued, "I tried to think of another explanation of why you would have been buying breakfast for two at the Norfolk Officer's Club on Thursday morning. There had to be a reason why my fiancée was in Norfolk when she should have been busy preparing for our wedding, besides the obvious. Apparently, you didn't learn from what happened with your first husband and Colonel Farrow."

Mac impassively accepted the barb, startled at the grain of truth behind it. She unfolded the paper he'd handed her, recognizing it as the receipt for the breakfast she and Harm had shared Thursday morning on their way to the air field. Despite her original intention to keep this to herself, she was relieved in a way that the truth was out. His obvious anger over what she'd done was easier for her to deal with than his blithe denial of the status of their relationship. "I'm sorry," she said simply, knowing it was inadequate.

"So how long has this been going on?" Mic demanded. "Have the two of you been together behind my back, and Renee's, all this time? When you two spent so much time outside at our engagement party, were you busy planning your next tryst?"

"You may not believe this," she replied with more calm than she felt, "but that night was the first and only time we were together like that." She held her gaze steady on his, searching for any hint of what he was now thinking. In the anger burning bright in his eyes, she could see more questions. "I do have to admit that I had my doubts before that about you and me. At our engagement party, I pressed Harm out on the porch. I needed to know how he felt about me. If I knew that he didn't love me …."

"So I was your fallback guy, is that it?" Mic asked. "If Rabb didn't want you, then you'd just settle for what I was offering?"

"It wasn't quite like that," she protested, even as the little voice inside her head pointed out that it was precisely like that. Harm had left everything behind, including her, so he could chase a long-lost dream and she'd let herself be open to the attention Mic was paying to her. She'd thought Harm hadn't wanted her in Sydney, so she'd let Mic place his ring on her right hand. When she'd believed Harm was leaving again to chase after his missing brother, she'd impulsively moved Mic's ring over to her left hand.

"Mic, you are a good man and I loved the attention you paid to me," she continued. "But I've realized that I can't love you the way you deserve to be loved. You showed me so much love and you should be with someone who can return that devotion. I'm not that woman, no matter how much I tried to be."

"So you just hung around with me until Rabb returned your interest," he ground out, "then you went running to him."

"I'm sorry," she said, blinking back tears. "I know that probably doesn't mean a lot right now, but maybe someday you'll realize that it is for the best. I wouldn't have been happy and all I would have done is make you miserable. You don't deserve that. No one does."

When Mic didn't reply, she took a five dollar bill out of her purse and set it on the table. "I guess there's nothing left to say," she said softly. "I'm truly sorry it had to end this way. Look, I'll return your ring when I get back to Washington. Goodbye, Mic."

Seeing that he wasn't going to reply, she quietly got up and left the restaurant. Once she was in her car, the key in the ignition, she exhaled heavily, blinking back tears. She was relieved to have that confrontation over without too much of a scene, but she was sad that a good man had gotten hurt in the progress.

-----

Inside the restaurant, Mic covered the money she'd left on the table with his hand, crumpling it in his fist as he watched her Corvette pull out of the parking lot. He was furious – with her for leading him on for all those months, with himself for not remembering the circumstances under which they'd first become acquainted. She'd cheated on her first husband. How could he have been so blind as to think that she still wasn't that same woman?

He couldn't bring himself to wish them well. All he could see was that Rabb now had what should have been his. He would never forget that – never.

-----

1105 LOCAL TIME  
INTENSIVE CARE UNIT  
PORTSMOUTH NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

Harm was exhausted and suffering from a major headache by the time he was taken back to his room. This had been the longest he'd been awake since he'd regained consciousness and now all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. The good news was that all the tests he'd just been subjected to had shown no sign of any significant impairment due to his injury and surgery. He would still be able to practice law and, with a lot of effort on his part, he was sure that he'd eventually pass his flight physical, as soon as he was cleared to take it. He was determined not to have that taken away from him a second time.

He was still confused regarding the exact circumstances of the accident itself and the event which had led to his transfer to Portsmouth, but Dr. Stafford had seemed unconcerned about that, for the most part. The doctor had gone on about how it wasn't that unusual given what had happened to him. Harm had decided not to worry too much about it. He did remember enough of the flight before the accident to know that the Tomcat had been experiencing problems even before they'd ended up in the middle of the storm. What he didn't remember about the accident probably wouldn't turn out to be that important.

His eyes had just fluttered closed when he heard a startled gasp from the doorway. Slowly turning his head, mindful of the pounding at the back of it, he was surprised to see Renee standing in the doorway, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "Renee," he said weakly, his voice still hoarse. He wasn't really in any condition to deal with this right now, but it appeared he didn't have much of a choice. "Come on in."

"I didn't realize," Renee whispered as she slipped into the room, visibly taken aback by his appearance. "I knew it was bad, but …."

"Actually, the doctor tells me I'm doing pretty well, considering," he tried to assure her. "I may even be out of here by this time next week."

"That's good," Renee said, sinking into one of the chairs near the bed. She looked down at her hands, nervously studying her manicure. "I'm glad you'll be okay."

"Thank you," he said.

He waited for her to say what she'd come to say, but when she continued to sit silently, he finally asked, "How did you get in here?" He winced, realizing how harsh that sounded.

Finally, Renee looked up at him with a sigh. "I'm going back to Washington," she explained, "and I wanted to see you before I left. I didn't really want to have come all this way for nothing, so I called your mother this morning and asked if she could arrange it so I could see you to say goodbye. I promised that I wouldn't stay too long and wear you out."

_What was Mom thinking?_ Harm wondered. _If Mac were to find out that she did this_…. He didn't want to start off his married life with tension between his mother and his wife; he loved them both and didn't want to be in a position where he would be caught between them. He was thankful that Mac wasn't here yet, but she was due anytime. He'd called her earlier on her cell phone and, since he was going to be undergoing tests most of the morning, they'd mutually agreed that she would come to see him around lunchtime. He just hoped Renee would say her piece and leave before Mac arrived. He wasn't in any condition to deal with the two of them at the same time.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sure what to say.

"So am I," Renee replied tearfully. "I loved you, you know."

"Yes, I know," he replied, clearing his throat.

"I always hoped that once Mac was married," she continued wistfully, "that there would be a chance for you and me. You had to have known that I wanted to spend my life with you."

Harm didn't know how to reply. Yes, he'd known how Renee felt, but as long as Mac had belonged to someone else, he'd accepted that. He'd needed her to shield himself from the pain. When he was with her, he could forget, if only for a little bit. She'd made him feel wanted at a time when he desperately needed it, when it seemed that the woman he loved wanted him, but not enough to give him the time he needed.

"Harm, can I ask you something?" Renee plunged ahead when he didn't say anything. "Maybe this isn't the right time, but I don't really think there is any such thing. I know you have a lot to deal with getting better right now, but I need to know."

He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the question, whatever it was, but he started to nod assent, grimacing at the pain that lanced through his head. Renee's expression grew concerned.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Do you need a nurse to bring you something for the pain?"

"No," he replied. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will the pain away. "It's just a side effect of the injury and the surgery. I'm sure it will go away eventually. What's your question?"

He opened his eyes. She was still sitting there watching him, worry etched in her eyes. "Renee?" he asked after a moment, when she didn't say anything;

"If Mac had gone through with the wedding and married Mic, would you and I have eventually gotten married ourselves?" she blurted out.

_Of all the questions for her to ask,_ he thought.

"Renee, I know how you feel about me…." he began slowly, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

"Please, do me a favor and don't tell me what you think I want to hear," she pleaded. "Answer me honestly. Would you have married me?"

He thought about it for a long moment. He'd never allowed himself to think about what would come after the woman he loved was presented to the world as Mrs. Mic Brumby. It had been all he could do to deal with the fact that the day when that would apparently happen had been drawing inevitably closer. "I don't know," he finally said. "I couldn't see past Mac's wedding to Mic. I don't think I was ready to accept it until it was a done deal."

"I suppose that's the best answer I'm going to get," she said with a shrug, not quite successful in masking her displeasure with his answer.

"Renee," he said, his gaze holding hers, "I know you probably don't believe me, but it's the truth. I don't know what would have happened, but I think that if I had married you, I would have made you miserable. I love Mac, Renee. I don't think I would have been able to stop, even if she'd married Mic."

"I guess that's honest," she said after a long moment, nodding. "Would you have been able to stay away from her? Never mind, I think I know the answer to that."

Harm was startled, wondering what had brought that last question on. Was it just the fact the fact that he'd turned to Mac so suddenly or was it something else. Could she possibly know….? He couldn't see how she could know that Mac had come to Norfolk Wednesday night. As far as he knew, no one knew that Mac had driven to see him that night. As honest as he was trying to be with Renee, he couldn't tell her that. It would serve no purpose except to upset Renee even more, and he didn't want to do that to her. "What are you going to do now?" he asked, hoping to draw her attention away from his relationship with Mac.

"Right now," she replied, "I'm going to head back to Washington. There's no reason for me to stay here now that I know you're going to be okay. After that, I'm not sure yet. I've had a few offers out in Hollywood that I've been putting off accepting. I mean, if you and I could've made it work, then … Well, I guess that doesn't matter anymore, does it? It's time to get on with my life."

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Renee," Harm said. "I know how much you wanted it to work out between us."

"I'm sorry, too," she echoed, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Look, I should probably get out of here. I'm sure you're tired. It's been a rough few days for you. I hope you get better soon, Harm."

"Thank you," he replied. "And good luck, Renee. I hope things go well for you."

"Um, thanks," she said, standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder. She forced a smile. "Goodbye, Harm."

"Goodbye, Renee," he replied.

She stood there for another moment, watching him. Just when he was about to ask her if she had something else to say, she turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Harm closed his eyes, sighing in relief. That had gone immeasurably better than he'd expected, but he was glad it was over. He was comforted that she seemed to be taking it so well. She was a good person, just not the right one for him.

-----

As soon as the door closed behind her, Renee slumped against the wall, trembling. As she fought back tears, she wondered how she'd been able to keep her composure in there. She'd had so many hopes for her and Harm, and even if she knew in her mind that they'd been in vain, it was like a vise around her heart to hear it spelled out in black and white.

No matter how much she'd tried to convince herself otherwise, Harm hadn't loved her. Although he hadn't said it in those terms, she knew now that she'd only ever been a distraction for him. Mac had always been the one he'd loved, and even if Mac had married Mic, his heart never would've let go of her. She understood now that wasn't in his nature.

"Oh, God," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her waist. She couldn't remember ever hurting this much. It was as if she'd been physically punched in the gut, the wind knocked out of her. She'd give anything for this feeling to go away. Trying to drown herself in booze hadn't helped, only giving her a persistent headache for her troubles. Maybe buring herself in work would accomplish what the alcohol hadn't.

Renee forced herself to stand up straight, digging through her purse for some tissue. She just had to prove that she was stronger than this, she decided, dabbing at her eyes. She might be down right now, but she would rise above it. She didn't have a choice if she was to move on.

Returning the tissue to her purse, she took a few cleansing breaths, resolving not to think about one Harmon Rabb for at least the next few hours. Then she'd resolve not to think about him for another few hours, and so on until someday she wouldn't think of him at all. She turned towards the exit, stopping short when she saw the figure approaching.

"Hello, Mac," she said bitterly.

-----

To be continued….


	12. Chapter 12

"Renee," Mac said with a calmness she didn't feel. Despite being a few hours removed from her confrontation with Mic, her nerves were still raw. She'd wanted to calm down before she saw Harm, but a few rounds with the punching bag at the base gym had done little to relieve her stress. A confrontation with Harm's ex-girlfriend was the last thing she needed right now.

Renee took a step towards Mac. "Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" she demanded.

Mac shrugged. "I know why you're here," she replied. "I don't know how you got in when only family is allowed, but does it really matter?"

"'Only family is allowed'," Renee mimicked. "I'm not family. You made sure of that."

"Harm was the one who asked me to marry him," Mac explained as gently as she could. "Harm does care for you, but …."

"Yeah," Renee retorted bitterly, "he cared for me so much that the minute you crooked your finger at him, he came running. I was with him for sixteen months, but as soon as you tell him you're available, he's there. Why couldn't you just marry Mic like you've been planning for the last five months?"

"Because it wouldn't have been right," Mac replied. "I did care for him, but …."

"But you didn't love him, is that it?" Renee finished bitterly. "Well, give the lady an Academy Award. You sure have given one hell of an impression of it the last five months. While you were busy playing the role of Mic's loving fiancée, I was the one who was there with Harm, loving him …."

"I don't know what you want me to say," Mac said. "If you'll excuse me, I need to see Harm, make sure he's okay." She started to step around Renee, but the other woman moved quickly to block her.

"Why, do you think I might have done something to him?" she demanded angrily.

"Renee, this is not about you," Mac said tersely. "Harm nearly died two days ago. He's still not completely out of the woods."

Renee looked slightly taken aback at that. "I didn't know that," she said quietly. "Harm didn't say anything."

"No, he wouldn't have," Mac pointed out. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," Renee said in a deceptively calm voice. Mac realized that she'd said the wrong thing, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Maybe Renee deserved a chance to say her piece, she told herself.

"Of course, you're sorry," Renee continued bitterly. "You know, I saw Harm Wednesday afternoon. He told me he was driving to Norfolk and I offered to go with him, to see him off. I didn't think it was too much to ask that he spend some time with me. Do you know what he told me?" She lifted an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

"No," Mac replied after a tense moment.

"He said that he wanted to get a good night's sleep before his quals," Renee replied softly. Mac had the sudden image of a snake coiling in the grass, poising to strike, and she had the feeling she knew exactly where this one was aimed. "He didn't get much sleep that night, did he?"

Mac exhaled the breath she'd been holding. "Did Mic tell you that?" she asked.

"He told me that he found a receipt at your apartment," Renee explained, "for breakfast for two at the Norfolk Officers' Club. Please, don't insult my intelligence by telling me that you woke up in the middle of the night and decided just for the hell of it to drive down to Norfolk."

"Renee, what is this accomplishing?" Mac asked, growing weary of the entire discussion and looking for a way out. She was tempted to bodily move Renee out of her way, but the corridor of a military hospital was hardly the place for such indecorous behavior. She reminded herself that a commotion right outside Harm's door would surely attract his attention, and he didn't need that.

"I've been with him for over a year," Renee spat out, angrily blinking back tears, "and I've invested everything I am in that relationship. I wanted to spend my life with him. I think that entitles me to say what I have to say. I can't say it to Harm, because he's in no condition to handle it. You want to protect your husband, then fine. You can stand here and give me the courtesy of listening to what I have to say."

Mac glanced around and made a decision. If it would keep Renee from upsetting Harm …. "Let's not do this here," she suggested. "Let's go into the waiting room."

Mac gestured for Renee to go ahead. She followed her into the waiting room, closing the door behind them to give them some privacy. She turned to face Renee. "Say what you have to say, Renee," she said. Renee turned away from her and walked over to the window, staring out at the gathering clouds.

"Why, Mac?" Renee finally asked. "Why couldn't you just marry Mic like you were supposed to, and let me be happy with Harm?"

Mac considered how to answer. The truth was the simplest explanation in this case, but she was sure it wasn't what Renee wanted to hear. She shook her head. If Renee was going to be given the opportunity to have her say, then she was going to have to deal with the consequences. That meant listening to the truth. "Because we would have been miserable together," she said. "And if you're honest, you and Harm would've been, too."

Renee spun around, her eyes blazing with fury. "And what gives you the right to decide what Harm and I might've been together?" she demanded. "What makes you such an authority on what Harm and I feel for each other?"

"I know Harm loves me," Mac replied calmly. "It may not seem that way now, and I wouldn't have wished in a million years for everything to happen this way, but it was probably for the …."

"Oh, spare me the 'it's for the best' speech," Renee said, waving her hand as if to dismiss her. "If it's for the best, then why now? You were about to marry Mic and I was moving towards something more with Harm. Why couldn't you decide this five months ago, when you finally accepted Mic's proposal? Or back in Australia, when he first put the ring on your finger? What gives you the right to blow our lives out of the water now?"

"Nothing," Mac admitted reluctantly. "I'm sorry that you and Mic got hurt. You're both decent people …."

Renee snorted. "You never liked me," she accused.

"I don't know you that well," Mac said carefully. "Harm does care a lot about you. As far as that went, it didn't really matter what I thought."

"You just didn't think that I was the right person for Harm," Renee said. Mac was about to reply, but Renee waved her off again. "I guess we're even there, because I think you're the last woman Harm needs in his life. You see, Mic told me some things on the drive to Norfolk, when all we had were just suspicions that you and Harm had sex Wednesday night. He told me that you'd cheated on your first husband - with your commanding officer, of all people. We already know, of course, what you did to Mic just three days before you were going to marry him."

When Mac couldn't come up with a reply, Renee pressed on. "Given your history, I'm not quite sure why Mic was so determined to believe the best about you. He was convinced there had to be some kind of logical explanation for that receipt. What I see is that you should come with a warning – 'Buyer beware'. You're right. Mic is a decent person, and he doesn't deserve what you've done to him."

"Mic's an adult," Mac said, "and it may take time, but he'll eventually realize that this was for the best."

"Are you really that callous?" Renee asked in amazement. "Then again, maybe I shouldn't be surprised given the way you chew men up and spit them out. Your first husband died, and you and your lover were accused of murdering him. Hmm, I wonder what happened to your lover? How did you ruin his life? And then there's Mic, who gave up everything for you, only to have you throw it back in his face."

"I didn't ask Mic to do that," Mac protested. "And I would never do anything like that to Harm."

"It seems to me that it's just a matter of time," Renee said, brushing past Mac to get to the door. Her hand on the knob, she turned back and issued her parting shot. "I just hope that when that time comes, you don't destroy him like you've done to every other man who's had the misfortune of being a part of your life."

After Renee stormed out, Mac sank into a chair, wrapping her arms around herself. Renee was angry, and Mac had to admit that she had every right to be. She didn't doubt that the other woman loved Harm. Renee was furious to find out her feelings weren't returned, which was perfectly understandable, especially after all she'd invested in the relationship. She was lashing out, and Mac made a very convenient target.

Resolving not to worry about it anymore, she headed back to Harm's room. She needed him right now. Glancing through the window in the door, she saw that he was awake, his eyes focused on a spot on the ceiling. She pushed the door open, a genuine smile on her face.

Harm gave her a smile of his own as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Just what I need," he said hoarsely, "someone to rescue me from the boredom of counting ceiling tiles."

"You could always watch television," she said, nodding towards the set hanging from the ceiling.

"Since when do I watch television?" he reminded her, cocking his head to the side. "Anyway, I already tried it. The noise and the light from the set gave me a headache."

"Are you okay?" she asked, instantly concerned at the stark reminder of the seriousness of his condition. His smile and sense of humor might be intact, but he still had a long way to go before he was back to normal.

"Dr. Stafford said it's normal right now," he explained, taking her hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly. "The headaches should ease with time, or so he claims."

"Are you sure you're up to having company?" she asked. "I can come back later if you need to rest."

"I'm always up to your company," he replied. "Especially now." He paused as if contemplating something, and then added, "Ah, Renee was here a little bit ago. We talked a bit. Well, she did most of the talking. She seemed to be taking everything pretty well, considering."

So Renee hadn't really said much of anything to Harm, Mac realized. She'd had her doubts about that, despite what Renee had said. No wonder she'd felt the need to unload on her. Even if she'd wanted to, Renee couldn't bring herself to take out her feelings on Harm, not in his condition. In spite of everything, Mac found herself admiring Renee's restraint. "Yeah," she said, "I know. I, um, ran into her outside."

"I'm sorry," Harm said. "Did she say anything to you?"

"It was fine," Mac replied evasively. If Renee had led him to believe that she was fine, Mac saw no reason to disabuse him of that notion. There was no point. He couldn't do anything about it anyway. "I know it didn't happen the way you planned, but at least you had a chance to settle things with her."

"I just wish …." Harm began, trailing off as he looked away from her. "This isn't the way I imagined this happening."

"I know," she said sympathetically. "The end of a relationship is never easy, no matter what the circumstances."

"Speaking of which," he said, "how did your breakfast go with Mic?"

"It's over," she said with a shrug, staring at the blanket, not quite able to meet his eyes. "Unlike you and Renee, we were one step from the altar, so it's rough on him. But I dealt with it and told him I'd return his ring when I get back to Washington."

"Is that it?" he asked, unable to completely mask the disbelief in his voice.

"What did you expect?" she countered, her fingers rigid in his. "He can't change anything. He knows that."

"I don't know," he replied, massaging her hand to relieve the tension. "I guess …. I didn't think it would be so easy for him to let you go."

"He's not happy," she said, "but he'll live with it. He knows I'm not coming back to him."

"Okay," he said. He rubbed his thumb over her wedding ring and smiled, suddenly changing the subject. "Maybe when we get back to Washington, we can go shopping for an engagement ring to match that wedding band."

Mac's eyes darted to her hand, where his thumb running over her finger was warming her insides. She looked up at him and smiled, her eyes sparkling with a promise of later. "I don't know," she teased. "I'm not sure you could really say we were engaged. You asked me to marry you, and the next thing I knew, we were getting married. When exactly was this engagement you were talking about?"

He tried to chuckle, but it came out choked as he started coughing instead. He motioned towards the cup of water on the nightstand, which she picked up and held for him as he sipped. He cleared his throat and said, "Thanks."

"No problem," she said, placing the cup back on the nightstand. "I think sometimes you forget your own limits."

He smiled, trying to look innocent. She thought he probably hadn't been innocent a day in his life, imagining him with that cute grin of his, charming the pants off everyone around him from babyhood. She'd have to ask his mother and grandmother for some intel about those times. She chuckled at the thought, reflecting that it felt good to have something to laugh about.

"Anyway," he continued, "a little bit of time did pass between when I asked you to marry me and the actual 'I do'. It may have been one of the shortest on record, but we were engaged for an hour." His brow furrowed in concentration. "Maybe two. You should have a ring to commemorate that."

"I don't need a ring," she said with a chuckle. "You're alive and we're together. That's enough for me." She leaned over him, dipping her head down to brush her lips over his. As she pulled up, he slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder, pulling her back down. He returned the kiss, nibbling at her bottom lip before his tongue darted out to tease the seam of her lips.

Her lips parted slightly, granting him entrance, and he deepened the kiss. Mac sighed in contentment as her right hand slid up his chest, only to come into contact with one of the EKG leads attached to his chest under his hospital down. Reluctantly, she pulled back, resting her forehead against his, her breathing slightly unsteady. "I don't think you're quite ready for anything more strenuous than that," she teased.

A sexy grin spread across his face. It took everything she had in her to resist the urge to kiss that smile off his face. "But I figure I'm going to need plenty of physical therapy to get better," he countered, suggestively wagging his eyebrows at her.

"Maybe later," she promised, "when there isn't a station of nurses right down the hall wondering why your heart rate has suddenly gone up."

She started to sit up again, but he tugged her back down. "Stay with me," he said.

"Harm …." she began, but he shook his head.

"Just lie here with me," he requested. His eyes bored in hers. "I just …. I want to spend some time with you. Stay until I fall asleep again."

She found it nearly impossible to refuse him anything when looked at her like that. "Okay," she said, stretching out on her side next to him, her head nestled against his shoulder. Her right hand rested on his chest, the feel of his heart beating beneath her fingers reassuring in its steady simplicity.

He wrapped his right arm around her shoulder, holding her tight against him. Almost as one, they sighed softly, settling in together. This was what she'd been searching for, Mac reflected as her eyes drifted closed, and she'd nearly let it slip away from her.

-----

To be continued...


	13. Chapter 13

HALF AN HOUR LATER

Ten minutes after Mac had given up the fight to keep her eyes open, Harm was struggling to keep from joining her in sleep. Since he'd regained consciousness, he'd barely been able to stay awake for more than ten to fifteen minutes most of the time, except when he'd been forced to stay away during his testing earlier that day. He figured that this time, with Mac lying in his arms, he had plenty of incentive to stay awake. He could lie here all day and just watch her, marveling that something was finally going right for them. If only his body would cooperate with him ….

The sound of the door opening drew his attention, and he looked over to find one of the ICU nurses entering the room, a disapproving look on her face. He started to laugh, but it turned into a cough, which he stifled, trying not to disturb Mac. The look on the nurse's face reminded him of the same one his mother had worn when she'd caught him trying to reach second base with Jessie Andrews the summer before his sophomore year of high school. He only wished he was doing something as interesting this time, especially since he still owed his wife a honeymoon.

"This isn't what it looks like, Nurse Simpson," he said with a sheepish grin.

"Commander Rabb," Simpson said in a tone that again reminded him uncomfortably of his mother. He thought that maybe it was because she was about the same age as his mother, and she knew how to handle him. When she'd first come on shift before he'd gone for his tests, Sarah and Sergei had been visiting. Sarah had made a joke about Harm being a handful, to which Simpson had replied that she had three sons, so there was probably nothing he could pull that she hadn't seen before. "This is the intensive care unit, not the honeymoon suite at the Hilton."

"Believe me, Nurse," he said, "I only wish I was up for something like that." He wondered if he'd be able to do something with Mac later, maybe after he was out of ICU and didn't have assorted hospital personnel wandering in and out of his room as they pleased.

Simpson raised her eyebrows as she picked up his chart, jotting down the vital signs displayed on the monitor. "You need your rest, Commander," she said, pushing a button to inflate the blood pressure cuff on his arm.

"I am resting," he protested.

He smiled, but she was having none of it, shooting him a disbelieving glance as she made some more notes on his chart. "I'm sure your wife thinks your smile is captivating," she said, "but you're not the first pilot who's tried to charm the nurses here."

"You'd be surprised," he said distantly, caught up in the memories. "The smile didn't seem to have much of an effect when we first met." He looked down at Mac, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, ignoring the slight tug from the IV tubing attached to that arm.

"Apparently she changed her mind," Simpson said in a softer tone.

"I don't know," Harm admitted. "Sometimes, I think she's the only person I can't charm."

He glanced away as Simpson knelt down to check the bag hanging from the side of the bed. "So how much longer do I have to wear that thing?" he asked in distaste.

"Likely at least as long as you're in ICU," she replied, noting the output on his chart. Swiftly, she switched the full bag for an empty one. "The doctor's not even going to try to have you get out of bed until after you're out of ICU and until you can get up and go to the bathroom by yourself …."

"I get the point," he said with a groan. "So when do I get out…."

"Commander," she interrupted, "I believe we had that discussion this morning. Are you always like this?"

A chuckle came from beside Harm, and he looked down to find Mac gazing up at him sleepily. "Usually, he's worse," she said, tongue in cheek.

Harm gazed at her for a long moment, noting the puffiness under her eyes. He wondered if it was from tears or lack of sleep – or perhaps both. Either way, he was the one who'd caused it. If he hadn't dumped his plane in the ocean, they'd be back in Washington now, perhaps spending a quiet holiday together. He would have been there to help her deal with the aftermath of her breakup with Mic. Now, all he could do was lie in this hospital bed, hooked up to monitors and tubes, while Mac struggled through everything on her own.

"Hey," Mac said softly. "You look like you're a million miles away."

"Just thinking," he said. He noticed Simpson giving him a stern look out of the corner of her eye and he sighed inwardly. He wasn't ready for Mac to leave yet, but as long as he was here, he didn't have as much of a choice as he would've liked. "When was the last time you got any sleep?"

"I was just sleeping," she pointed out in a teasing tone.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," he said. He shot Simpson a pleading look and she nodded, returning his chart to the end of the bed and leaving the room. "Mac, I'm worried about you."

"You're worried about me?" Mac echoed in disbelief. "Harm, I'm not the one lying in a hospital bed after nearly dying of hypothermia and a head injury! You …." She broke off, fighting a losing battle to maintain her composure.

"Hey," he said gently, pulling her tightly against him. "I'm going to be okay, but I know I'd feel a lot better if I knew you were taking care of yourself. I think you should go back to the VOQ and get some sleep."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "I've never needed much sleep …." She broke off at the sound of a knock on the door.

"Come in," Harm called out, wondering who it was. None of the doctors and nurses would knock, and then wait to be invited in, so it was probably a member of the family.

He was surprised at the person who pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Mac pulled out of his arms and sat up, her cheeks tinged with pink as she brushed through her hair with her fingers, trying to return it to some semblance of order.

"Father Gilly," Harm said with a puzzled frown. The last time he remembered seeing Father Gilly was in the sickbay on the _Henry_. The details weren't quite clear to him, but he assumed Gilly had been the one to marry him and Mac. "Shouldn't you be on the _Henry_?"

Gilly pulled up a chair and sat down. "I accompanied you and Sarah on the helo from the ship," he explained, "along with Doctor Reed. He went back to the ship yesterday morning a few hours after you got out of surgery, but I requested permission to stay behind until you were out of the woods. I've been providing regular reports on your condition to Captains Ingles and Pike. You've got a lot of people back there concerned about you."

"Thank you, Father," Harm said gratefully. "I appreciate everything you've done for us."

"Yes, thank you," Mac echoed, squeezing Harm's hand.

Harm had a sudden memory of something he and Mac had discussed on the ship, and he looked at Mac and then down at her wedding ring, a question in his eyes. She understood what he was trying to say and nodded, turning back to Gilly. "You probably remember that when Harm and I asked you to marry us," she said, "we said that we were planning on having another ceremony later so that all our friends and family could be there. If you're available, we'd like you to perform the ceremony."

"I'm not sure," Gilly said, trying to mask his hesitation. "As you know, I've still got a cruise to complete."

"It won't be for a few months yet, I'm sure," Harm added with a cough, groaning a little at the pain that shot through his head. "The _Henry_ will probably be back in Norfolk by the time we can plan anything."

"We're not talking about anything very big," Mac said, "probably just Harm's family, our friends from JAG and a few other people. I don't really want a big wedding. I nearly had that…." She trailed off, flashing an apologetic look at Harm. He gave her a reassuring glance.

Unnoticed by Harm and Mac, Gilly studied the two of them as they seemed to hold an entire conversation with their eyes. As their fingers slowly entwined, he made a decision. After another moment in which they seemed to forget his presence, lost in each other's gaze, he cleared his throat. "I'd be honored to perform a ceremony for you to renew your vows," he said.

"Thank you, Father," Mac said for both of them, stifling a yawn.

"Mac," Harm drew out her name, reminding her with his tone of their earlier conversation before Gilly had joined them. He glanced at the priest. "Father, you could do me a favor right now. Mac hasn't gotten much sleep the last few days, so I'd appreciate it if you could make sure she gets back to the VOQ."

"Harm," Mac began to protest, cut off when another yawn escaped.

"I'll just wait outside for you, Sarah," Gilly said, standing. Without waiting for an acknowledgement, he left them alone.

"Mac," Harm said softly, his gaze fixed on hers. "Do this for me. It would make me feel better."

Mac sighed. It was so hard to refuse him when he looked at her like that. "Okay," she said, "if you'll promise to do the same. Get some sleep and try not to give the doctor and nurses around here too hard a time."

He raised his eyebrows, giving her a "Who, me?" look. She chuckled, shaking her head. Harm was just being….Harm. After everything that had happened, it was comforting in its familiarity.

Harm was relieved to see her laugh. With everything that had happened, it was good to know that she could still find something amusing. "Okay," he conceded. "We'll both get some sleep. Why don't you come back …?" He trailed off, considering. He wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, but he wanted to make sure that she got as much rest as she could. He considered saying 'tomorrow', but knew she'd never go for that. "….after dinner," he finished.

Mac opened her mouth as if to argue, but closed it again. "Fine," she said. She kissed him, and then started to get up before he pulled her back, deepening the kiss.

When they finally broke apart, they were both a little breathless. "Hold onto that thought," Harm said as a sexy grin spread across his face. "There's more where that came from."

She smiled as she got up from the bed. "I'll hold you to that," she said. "I love you."

"Love you, too," he replied.

-----

When Mac closed Harm's door behind her, Gilly was waiting for her in the hallway. "Ready to go?" he asked, motioning towards the exit.

"I appreciate the gesture, Father," she said as they started walking, "but it's not necessary to escort me back to the VOQ."

"Actually," he said as they reached the elevators, and he pressed the down button, "you'd be doing me a favor if you'd let me escort you back there. It will save me from having to ride the base bus."

"Okay," Mac said, masking her reluctance.

"Sarah, we don't have to talk," he said as they stepped onto the elevator. She stared at him, surprised that he seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts. "If you want to be silent on the drive, that's fine with me. I think it would be good for you to talk to someone, and I sense that you don't really have anyone here that you'd feel comfortable confiding in."

"I guess you're right about that," Mac mused as the elevator opened up to the first floor. "Normally, I guess I would talk to my uncle, but….I forgot completely about him! He doesn't know I got married. Well, actually, he doesn't know that I married Harm."

"Your uncle wasn't going to be at your wedding?" he asked as he followed her to the parking lot. "I suppose that's why he's not here with you now."

"No, he couldn't be here," she replied distractedly, pulling her cell phone from her purse. "Damn, the battery's low. I probably should call him from my room, anyway. This is going to be an….interesting conversation."

They arrived at her car and she motioned Gilly towards the passenger side as she pressed the button on the remote to unlock the doors. "I assume that's because he thought you were supposed to be marrying Mr. Brumby this past weekend," he commented as they strapped themselves in.

Mac was silent as she pulled out of the parking lot, considering the statement. She'd spoken to her uncle two weekends previously, the day after her fateful engagement party. He'd sensed something was bothering her and had called her on it. She'd been on the verge of confessing everything, but something had stilled her tongue at the last moment. Finally, she'd just claimed a case of pre-wedding jitters, a part of her hoping her uncle would sense that she wasn't being truthful with him and press her further.

He hadn't done so, and she knew deep down that he never would. He'd always trusted her to make her own choices, ever since Red Rock Mesa. In that way, Harm was a lot like her uncle. She'd told them that she was going to marry Mic, and they'd both respected her decision, assuming that she knew what she was doing. She sighed heavily. Chloe and Harriet had been the only ones to question her judgment, and by then it'd almost been too late.

"I'm sorry, Father," Mac said, shaking herself out of her reverie as she realized that he'd been speaking to her. "What did you say?"

"I asked about your parents," he said. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him watching her intently. "I haven't seen them here, either."

"My father died two years ago this month," she explained. "My mother….I don't know where she is. She left us on my fifteenth birthday and the only time I've seen her since then was at my father's deathbed."

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Gilly said.

"That's okay," Mac assured him, putting it immediately out of her mind. As far as she was concerned, her parents hadn't been a part of her life since she was a teenager.

"So you said your uncle couldn't be at your wedding," he reminded her.

She thought this was a safe enough topic to discuss. "Do you remember almost five years ago when a militia group stole the Declaration of Independence?" she asked.

"They were a bunch of former Marines," he recalled. "Their leader appeared on TV a few times, explaining why they'd done it." He stared at her, putting it together in his mind. "Your uncle?"

"Colonel Matthew O'Hara," she confirmed. "My mother is his younger sister. Actually, that case is how Harm and I met. I was brought into JAG HQ to assist in tracking down the group. The CIA knew that I was Colonel O'Hara's niece and thought that I'd be able to lead them to him. When I finally told Harm the truth, he convinced me to trust him and take him to Uncle Matt. I held a gun on him, trying to convince my uncle's men that I was with them and that Harm had been pursuing me. Despite that, Harm volunteered to defend Uncle Matt. He didn't know me, he didn't know my uncle, but he laid it on the line for us. He didn't get my uncle off, but Harm did manage to prevent the government from throwing the book at him."

"I assume he couldn't be at your wedding because he's still in Leavenworth?" Gilly asked.

"He's eligible for parole in less than a year," Mac replied. "Harm's probably already planning for the hearing, knowing him."

"So you were the one," he began, breaking off at the puzzled glance Mac shot him. "Harm told me some things when he was on the _Henry_ last year. One of those was the story about representing your uncle and how close the two of you had been up until he left JAG."

"He told you that?" she asked in wonder, remembering how she'd thought he'd cut himself off almost completely from his old life. He'd never called; he hardly ever wrote. As far as she'd known, he'd left everything behind when he'd walked out of JAG that last afternoon. It was unsettling to learn that he'd apparently been thinking about her while he'd been gone. If she'd known that before, the last two years might never have unfolded the way they had. Her heart wept for the lost chances.

"He didn't mention you by name," Gilly said. "I can't say too much, but….what he said to me was very telling."

"You took confession from Harm?" she asked, surprised. Harm rarely opened up, even to those closest to him. To find out that he'd talked to a priest about their relationship – or lack thereof – disturbed her. Why hadn't he been able to talk to her?

"Not confession, no," he explained. "I was just a fellow officer offering a friendly ear. Sarah, I could be a friendly ear for you as well."

"What, do you think I need to confess?" she asked sarcastically.

"I think the question really is," he replied gently, "is do you think you have something to confess?"

Mac was silent for a long moment, staring at the road ahead of her. What had Harm been thinking, asking Father Gilly to accompany her? Did he think she needed to talk to someone? Maybe he'd managed to find some solace in talking to the priest, but she wasn't Harm. It wasn't that easy for her. "Tell me something, Padre," she said angrily. "What's the right answer here? I dumped the man I'd promised to marry hours before the ceremony and married someone else. Or should I have just married Mic and made everyone around me miserable? When I think about what my marriage would have done to Harm….I saw his face the day I told everyone I'd accepted Mic's proposal. I might as well have taken a knife and stabbed him through the heart, but even seeing that, I couldn't make myself do anything about it until the last minute."

"Sarah," he said, "stopping yourself from making a mistake is not a sin."

"Do you really believe that?" she retorted. "Back at the hospital, when we asked you to perform the ceremony to renew our vows, you hesitated. Why?"

"I had some concerns," Gilly easily admitted. "When I found out about Mr. Brumby and Ms. Peterson, I have to admit that I'd wondered whether I'd done the right thing by officiating at your wedding."

"'Had some concerns'," she repeated. "You mean you don't anymore?"

"Sarah, do you have some questions about what you've done?" he asked pointedly, deflecting the question back to her.

"I love Harm," Mac insisted.

"After what I've seen the last two days," he said, "and knowing now that you were the one Harm was talking about when he told me some of the stories about the two of you, I don't question that."

"You don't?" she asked quietly. She wanted to believe that. She needed to know that someone was in their corner. So far, not a single one of their friends had mentioned the marriage, and the silence bothered her more than she cared to admit. She could imagine the eyes that would be on her for a time to come, the whispers behind her back.

"No, I don't," he replied. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

Mac shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road. She didn't think it really mattered at this point. Somehow, he'd gotten her to open up in spite of herself. "Go ahead," she said.

"Why did you agree to marry Mr. Brumby?" Gilly asked.

"Does it really matter?" she countered.

"I think it does to you," he explained. "No matter how much you love Harm, you're understandably troubled by how it came about. You need to be able to recognize what troubles you about it in order to reconcile yourself to the situation. It's very difficult to begin a new life with someone when you're mired in the past."

"I'm not mired in the past," Mac insisted. "Right now my only focus is making sure my husband makes a full recovery. I'm looking towards the future, not the past. Or is this a lecture along the lines of 'Those who don't learn from the mistakes of the past are doomed to repeat them'?"

"This isn't a lecture, Sarah," Gilly said as Mac pulled into the parking lot at the VOQ and found a spot near the end of the building. "Just call it food for thought. It helps if you're sure about what you're doing."

Mac's hand froze on the key as his statement struck a cord with her. Harriet had almost those same words when Mac had returned from Australia wearing Mic's ring. Too bad she hadn't been able to bring herself to listen to the doubts instead of letting herself be dazzled by the brilliance of the diamond and the promise it held of everything she'd ever wanted.

"Sarah, is everything okay?" Gilly asked.

"Everything's fine," she replied, brushing his concern aside. She was sure that she loved Harm with everything she had in her. As far as she was concerned, that was all that mattered.

-----

LATER THAT AFTERNOON  
INTENSIVE CARE UNIT  
PORTSMOUTH NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

Since those who were in the military had to return to duty tomorrow, Harm's co-workers, after waiting for two days, were finally allowed to see him for a few minutes before they left for the drive back to Washington. They came in groups of two or three, wishing him a speedy recovery with varying degrees of effusiveness – and sincerity. Harm was mildly surprised to learn that none of them had left yet. After his return from the _Henry_, he'd felt like he didn't really fit in anymore. This was the first real indication he'd gotten since then of just how much a part of the fabric of the JAG office he was.

When Loren came in with Carolyn, Harm thought her well wishes merely masked her ambition to take on a few more cases, since JAG was going to be short one lawyer for the foreseeable future. Harm was unable to resist rolling his eyes at the thought, and he noticed Carolyn covering her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh when she caught his gesture. Loren, fortunately, was oblivious, waxing on about how happy she would be to help out on some of his cases until he was back on his feet.

Alan and Jackie were the next visitors on the docket. Harm learned that Alan had been asked by A.J. to cover as chief of staff while Harm and Mac were both out. They spent a few minutes discussing some of Harm's cases that would need to be reassigned, Alan mentioning that Loren had already pounced on him, wanting to make sure he kept her in mind for any important cases.

After the Mattonis, Victor and Jason dropped in. Sarah had told Harm that they'd driven in the middle of the night to bring her to Washington, and he thanked them for their kindness in looking out for his grandmother. They both told him to let them know when Sarah was ready to return home, and they'd be more than happy to drive her back. Harm was grateful for the offer, since he'd already been warned by the doctor that long trips by car were out of the question for a while, which was the reason he was going to be sent back to Washington by helo.

Bud and Harriet were next, and Harm could see as soon as they'd walked into the room just how shaken they were to see him in this condition. Neither had ever been very good at hiding their emotions. Bud rambled on a bit, as he used to when he'd been newly assigned to JAG, and Harriet nearly burst into tears. They hadn't brought baby AJ in with them – he was sitting out in the hall with big A.J. - both because the hospital wouldn't let such a young child in, and because they weren't sure how he would react to seeing his beloved godfather with a shaved head and wires and tubes connected in various places. Harriet kissed the bruise on his forehead, telling Harm that AJ had wanted to make sure Harm got a 'tiss' to make his 'owie' better. Harm said to tell AJ that the kiss did make him feel better, which had the intended side effect of bringing a smile to Harriet's face.

Although they weren't leaving until Tuesday afternoon, Chloe visited next with her father. Unlike Harriet, she did burst into tears. Harm took her into his arms, trying to assure her that he would be fine eventually. He promised that with her father's and grandparents' permission, he would bring her back to Washington later in the summer so they could catch the Orioles game that they'd missed on Sunday. Slyly, Chloe asked if he would invite Sergei as well, Kyle and Harm exchanging a knowing glance over her head at her obvious crush on Harm's younger brother. Harm didn't make any promises since he didn't know how long Sergei was going to be able to stay in Washington.

Finally, fifteen minutes after Chloe and her father had said their goodbyes, Harm received the visitor he'd been both anticipating and dreading. "Admiral," he said in greeting as A.J. walked into the room. Even dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, A.J. exuded command authority, and Harm started, out of habit, to bring himself to a close approximation of attention before A.J. waved him off.

"No need to stand on ceremony, Commander," A.J. said, taking a seat. "How are you doing?"

"I've been better, sir," Harm replied, making light of the situation. "Of course, I haven't figured out whether this crash or my first one was worse. From where I'm laying, they both feel about the same – too many machines that I'm hooked up to and too many drugs being pumped into me."

"That's good. But I came here for an additional reason, Commander," A.J. said in a serious tone. "We need to discuss the crash."

"I assumed that was coming at some point," Harm replied, unable to mask his weariness. "I've been down that road before. I suppose the investigation has already begun."

A.J. studied him for a moment, trying to determine if he was in any condition for this discussion. Only when Harm motioned for him to go on did he continue. "The investigation itself is being handled here in Norfolk," he explained. "They've already started going over all the communications between you, the _Henry_, Oceana and Andrews while salvage crews are pulling up as much of your Tomcat as they can. I believe they've also requested maintenance reports from the _Henry_ on that Tomcat."

"And…?" Harm asked, realizing that A.J. was holding something back.

"I've already gotten a call from COMNAVAIRLANT," A.J. explained with a sigh of barely concealed frustration. "Even though there is nothing right now to suggest this was anything other than massive systems failure combined with the storm, some concern was expressed because this is your second crash and ejection – third, if they knew about your little escapade in Russia. They just want to make sure all the I's are dotted and the T's crossed."

"Meaning what exactly, sir?" Harm asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. From an objective standpoint as an investigator, he could understand the concern, but it was hard to be detached when he was the one under scrutiny. Even with his memories still scattered, he had the strong feeling that he'd done everything he could to keep that plane in the air.

"Commander, need I remind you that you have dumped not one, but two, forty million dollar aircraft?" A.J. pointed out. "When you manage to single-handedly cost the Navy eighty million dollars, there are going to be questions that will have to be answered and not just by you. I'm sure they'll have some hard questions for some of Captain Ingles' crew, such as why you were cleared to take off in that weather. The last thing the Navy is going to want is someone questioning why they're keeping a man in the air who goes through so much of the taxpayers' money."

"They said the storm was supposed to be out of our flight path," Harm remembered. "Have they talked to Skates yet? She's probably a lot clearer on the details than I am right now."

"I don't know, Commander," he replied. "I've had a request from the CNO to stay out of this as much as possible. The investigators are to report directly to COMNAVAIRLANT with their findings, and their Force Judge Advocate will handle the mishap board and any charges that might arise, whether on your part or on the part of someone on the _Henry_. Hell, I think if they could find a way to do it, they'd assign investigators from another branch of service in order to avoid undue command influence." A.J. spat out the final three words, his disgust clearly evident.

"I'm sorry, Admiral," Harm said, recognizing the undercurrent in A.J.'s voice. He wondered what had happened to the fool who'd apparently suggested to the Admiral that he couldn't oversee an objective investigation when it concerned one of his own people. Harm knew that was an invalid assumption from personal experience. When he'd been suspected of murder, A.J.'s only involvement had been bringing Carolyn in from outside HQ to represent him and assigning Alan to prosecute. Other than that, A.J. had maintained a strictly hands off approach until it came time to chew him a new one for the brig break.

"There's more, Commander," A.J. said, brushing off the apology. At Harm's questioning glance, he continued, "I don't know how to say this but straight out. It's probably a good idea if someone besides the colonel represents you. In fact, I'd probably even go outside the personnel currently in our office."

It wasn't that Harm disagreed in principal with the suggestion. Mac had enough on her mind, between her cancelled wedding to Mic and his situation, and he didn't think she needed the additional stress of dealing with the investigation into his crash. However, the way A.J. said it was setting off his radar. There was something else going on.

"Sir, on my part, I don't anticipate this going any farther than the mishap board," Harm said. "My memory still has a few holes in it, but I don't think I could have done more to prevent the crash. Why shouldn't Mac represent me? She's certainly proven to be a passionate advocate for me in the past."

"There's a possibility she may be called as a witness, Commander," A.J. replied.

"A witness?" Harm repeated incredulously. "What could Mac possibly have to tell the mishap board? She has nothing to do with this. Do they know that she's my wife and can't be compelled to testify?"

"I've just been told, as her commanding officer, that she needs to be available for an interview at some point," A.J. said. "If they don't know yet, the investigators are going to find out about your hasty marriage on the same day she was supposed to have married someone else. It's inevitable that there are going to be questions."

"Mac had called off the wedding before I even left the carrier," Harm pointed out.

"Commander, I'm not here to discuss your personal life," A.J. said firmly.

Harm heard the unspoken message. There was going to be a discussion eventually. Although he'd been aware of the possibility in the back of his mind ever since he'd first found himself attracted to Mac, what their marriage would mean for their careers had been the last thing on his mind when he'd proposed. He could imagine that it was going to be a lot harder for A.J. to invoke Admiral's privilege to keep both him and Mac at JAG HQ.

"So am I going to be assigned outside counsel?" Harm asked, steering the conversation away from more personal matters.

"If I might offer a suggestion," A.J. said. When Harm nodded, he continued, "We have a new staff judge advocate PCSing into headquarters next week from Pearl, a Commander Sturgis Turner. He's a former submariner, but his record for dispassionate advocacy since he joined JAG has been impressive."

"Sturgis?" Harm repeated. "I was beginning to think he intended to stay in Hawaii for the rest of his career."

A.J. sighed. "You know Commander Turner?" he asked.

"We were in the same company at the Academy," Harm explained, wondering if A.J. was going to suggest someone else now that he knew Harm and Sturgis were acquainted. He hoped not. If he couldn't have Mac represent him, and A.J. was probably right in that it was for the best, then Sturgis was a good second choice. "Sturgis is a good man and a fair one. He'd be a good advocate."

"Fine, he's your representative," A.J. agreed. "He's not due to report for duty until next week, but I believe he was flying in today to search for a place to live and spend some time with some family in the area. When we return to work tomorrow, I'll have Tiner find a contact number so you can get in touch with him. I don't know if the investigators are going to be able to get past Dr. Stafford to interview you here, or if it will have to wait until after you're home. Just in case, you should contact him and see if he's available."

"I will," Harm promised. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me, Commander," A.J. said. "I just want to make sure that this investigation goes as smoothly as possible."

"Understood, sir," Harm said. He understood the hidden message. Admiral Chegwidden the commanding officer wanted as little as possible to disrupt the smooth running of his office, and Harm had just inadvertently sent it into an uproar. A.J. the friend was doing everything he could to smooth things over for Harm. Harm was grateful, but he knew that it was probably best, knowing A.J., to leave that unsaid for now.

"I'll leave you to get some rest, Commander," A.J. said, standing to leave. "Dr. Stafford was hesitant to let a parade of Naval personnel through your room to begin with. Take care of yourself and keep me informed."

"Will do, Admiral," Harm promised, letting his eyes drift closed as A.J. turned to leave. When he heard the door open and close, he sighed in relief. Reluctantly, he could understand Dr. Stafford's position. The parade of people had been somewhat exhausting, and A.J.'s visit had reminded him that there was still the fallout from his crash to deal with. He just hoped Mac wasn't going to be too upset when he told her that she wasn't going to be representing him before the mishap board.

-----

To be continued….


	14. Chapter 14

EARLY TUESDAY AFTERNOON  
29 MAY 2001  
SURGICAL CARE WARD  
PORTSMOUTH NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

For the second day in a row, Harm made a resolution to stay awake as much as possible. The visits from his co-workers yesterday had worn him out more than he'd anticipated, and the next thing he'd known, the nurses had been making their final rounds for the night. When he'd asked, he was told that Mac had stopped by with the rest of his family, but that they'd insisted on not disturbing him. Sorry that he hadn't gotten to see everyone last night, especially Mac, he'd promised himself that he was going to be awake for their visit today.

He tried watching television to pass the time. His persistent headache of the last two days had eased, and the light from the screen didn't bother his eyes as much. The attempt only reminded him why he didn't own a television. The game shows were inane. Did anyone really get that excited over playing stupid games to win overpriced furniture sets? He didn't even want to think about the soap operas. He didn't get why some woman named Greenlee – who didn't look like she was that many years out of high school and what kind of name was Greenlee anyway – was plotting against some older woman named Erica, who in the meantime was trying to separate her daughter Bianca from a friend Laura, who apparently had a heart condition. People didn't really live like that.

So far today, the only excitement he'd experienced had come when Dr. Stafford had allowed him to be moved out of ICU. He wasn't allowed out of bed yet – which meant he still had the catheter – although Stafford had said that if everything continued as it had so far, he might let Harm try getting out of bed tomorrow. Harm had barely been able to conceal his excitement at that prospect, even after Stafford had warned him that just walking fifteen feet from the bed to the bathroom would probably wear him out.

At the sound of a knock on the door, he called out, "Enter." He turned off the television with the remote and pushed himself up into a sitting position, hoping that it was Mac on the other side of the door.

His momentary disappointment that it wasn't Mac was masked by his pleasure at seeing one of his oldest friends. "Sturgis," he said with a smile. He noticed the man who entered after Sturgis. "Chaplain Turner. Come on in."

"How are you doing, Harm?" Sturgis asked as he took a seat beside the bed, his father pulling up a chair beside him. "As soon as I landed in D.C., Dad told me he'd heard on the news that you'd been in an accident. He called down here and found out that you might be allowed visitors besides family today."

"We had to come down and make sure you were okay," Matthew said in a voice heavy with concern.

"I'm getting better," Harm said in a reassuring tone. He knew they were probably remembering his first crash. They hadn't seen him right after the crash since he'd been in Germany, but Harm knew his parents had been in contact with Matthew during that time. Both men had later visited him at his grandmother's farm – Sturgis joining with Keeter and Diane to try to cajole him out of his depression while his father had offered a friendly ear if he'd wanted to talk. "I'm out of ICU, and I'm hopeful that I'll be sent to Bethesda this weekend. At least, Dr. Stafford tells me that will happen if everything continues to go well."

"Thank God," Matthew said, patting his hand. "That's definitely good news, my boy."

"Yes, it is," Sturgis agreed. "You know, I tried to contact Keeter yesterday, but I haven't been able to find him."

"Who knows where he is," Harm said with a shrug. "Keeter's been doing a lot of work with the CIA and Naval Intelligence the last few years. He could be in Timbuktu for all I know. Webb might know, if he's still around to ask."

"Webb?" Sturgis asked. "Isn't he that CIA agent you've told me about?"

"Yeah," Harm replied. "He brought Sergei here Sunday evening."

"Your brother, Sergei?" Matthew asked in surprise. "I thought he was a prisoner in Chechnya."

"I'm not sure of all the details," Harm explained. "Mac and Sergei didn't tell me much, but apparently Webb worked out some sort of deal for his release."

"I've been praying for him ever since Sturgis told me you'd said he was missing," Matthew said. "I'm sure your grandmother is happy to have her other grandson here."

"She is," Harm said, remembering the joyful look on her face when she and Mac had brought Sergei in to see him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen that look on his grandmother's face. "I know it's been hard on her – first finding out she has another grandson, and then finding out he was a prisoner. Speaking of this situation being hard, I'd appreciate it if maybe you could talk to my mother, Chaplain Turner. She didn't take the news very well a few months ago when she found out that Dad has another son. She hasn't said anything, but I'm concerned about how she's handling the reality of having Sergei here. Maybe you can talk to her…."

"Harmon," Matthew said after Harm had trailed off, "you know it doesn't work that way, not with your mother. Remember what happened the last time?"

Harm winced at the memory. After his first crash brought a few veiled comments from his mother about her fear over his remaining in the Navy, Harm had asked Matthew to talk to her. Harm had learned later from Frank how that had gone. When Matthew had offered to listen, Trish had blown up at him. She'd accused him of not understanding what it was like to lose a spouse and to nearly lose a son and had gone so far to ask how he could serve a God who was so cruel to her family. Although she'd apologized profusely when she'd found out that he'd been asked to approach her by Harm, insisting that it was her stress over what had happened to Harm that had caused her to act like that, Matthew was a little hesitant about being so forward with her this time.

"I know," Harm sighed. "If you could just be there if she does want to talk, I'd really appreciate it."

"I'll let here know I'm in Norfolk," Matthew promised. "If she decides she wants to talk, it's up to her. Where's your family staying?"

Harm thought for a moment. He knew they were staying at a VOQ, but he was trying to remember if someone had mentioned which one they were at, since there were several, belonging to three different branches of service, in and around Norfolk. "I think Frank said something about the VOQ at the Shipyard," he finally said.

"Sturgis and I reserved a room out there," Matthew said, "so we'll check with the front desk when we check in. If not, we can call around. Is there anything else we can do for you?"

"Actually, I'm glad you're here, Sturgis," Harm said as he turned to his friend. "I could use you help before the mishap board. In fact, Admiral Chegwidden was going to see if he had a contact phone number for you so I could call you this week."

"You're not going to have someone already at HQ represent you?" Sturgis asked in surprise.

"I'd ask Mac," Harm admitted, "but she's got a lot on her plate right now. She doesn't need the additional stress. When the Admiral told me you were starting at HQ next week, I thought you'd be the perfect person to ask."

"I'd be happy to represent you," Sturgis said. "Who's conducting the mishap investigation? Since I'm in Norfolk, I should probably stop in and introduce myself to the investigators."

"The Admiral said it was being handled by the office of the Force Judge Advocate for COMNAVAIRLANT," Harm replied. "JAG's being kept out of it."

"For obvious reasons," Sturgis commented. "The Navy wouldn't want us to investigate one of our own, especially a man who's dumped two Tomcats in his career."

"Sturgis," Harm said with thinly veiled exasperation, "I didn't crash either of those birds on purpose. This time, we had massive systems failure, even before Skates and I flew into that storm and got struck by lightning."

"Buddy, I didn't say that it was your fault," Sturgis said calmly, "nor do I think that."

"I know," Harm said as he rubbed his forehead with his hand. "I didn't mean it like that."

"It's understandable," Matthew said in a soothing tone. "I'm sure these mishap investigations don't get any easier the second time around, even when you know that you did nothing wrong. Your friends and family are here for you, Harm. Take solace in that."

"Thank you, Chaplain Turner," Harm said. He covered his mouth, stifling a yawn as he swore inwardly. He didn't want to admit that his body wasn't capable of keeping up with his desire to stay awake yet.

"We should go, Sturgis," Matthew said, "and let Harm get some rest."

"It feels like I've done nothing but sleep the last two days," Harm said. "Stay and help me stay awake."

"Now, Harm," Matthew said, clasping Harm's shoulder, "I'm sure your doctor would tell you that you need to get as much rest as possible. It will help you heal."

"I slept through my family's visit last night," Harm said in frustration.

"I'm sure they understand," Matthew pointed out, "and they don't want you to wear yourself out on their account. Try to take it easy, son." He rose from his chair, the look on his face telling Harm that he would accept no arguments.

Sturgis rose as well, taking a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and handing it to Harm. "Here's Dad's cell phone number," he said. "If you need to talk to me, he can give me the message. Just remember – don't be the Lone Ranger and talk to the investigators without your lawyer present."

"I'm not even sure the doctor would let them in here," Harm said as he set the paper on the nightstand, "but I'll keep it in mind, Sturgis."

"Take care, buddy," Sturgis said.

"Thank you both for coming," Harm said, "and if you can think of anything to keep my occupied while I'm in here, bring it with you the next time you come."

"Take care, Harm," Matthew said before they turned and left the room.

-----

"So what do you think, Dad?" Sturgis asked as soon as they were out of Harm's room.

"He's definitely not the same man he was ten years ago after his first crash," Matthew said thoughtfully. "I was very worried about that boy then."

"I know," Sturgis said, remembering. It had become his, Keeter and Diane's mission in life to make sure Harm didn't wallow in self-pity. It'd been difficult, given Harm's innate stubbornness and the fact that their Navy careers didn't allow them to spend as much time with Harm as they'd have liked, but between the three of them and Harm's grandmother, Sturgis thought they'd done fairly well in reminding Harm that he wasn't a man who knew how to give up. "He doesn't blame himself for the crash. That's a good sign. Of course, both he and his RIO survived this time."

"I don't know if he could have handled losing another RIO," Matthew admitted. "I also noticed that Harm is more concerned about those around him than himself."

"That's not unusual for him," Sturgis pointed out. "He is the one who asked you to speak to his mother the last time. He's concerned about her again, he thinks Mac is under enough stress without him adding to it, and I'm sure he's concerned about his brother's condition after Sergei spent five months in a Chechen prison camp."

"That reminds me," Matthew said, "who is Mac?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie," Sturgis clarified. "She's been Harm's partner at HQ for, um, nearly five years now, I think. From what I've gathered over the years, they've become rather…..close."

"Ah," Matthew said. "Well, if they're as close as you're implying, it's little wonder that he's concerned about how she would handle the investigation on top of dealing with what happened to Harm."

"Well, I don't know that they're that close," Sturgis backpedaled. "You know, ever since Diane's death, he doesn't talk a lot about the women he sees. Mostly, he just talks about work and his family. Mac is his partner at work, so I suppose it's natural that he'd mention her a lot."

"Harm has always been somewhat private," Matthew remembered. "I think he's always felt he's had to keep so much inside so he can take care of everyone else around him. The best thing you can do as his friend is to make sure he knows that he has people he can lean on."

"Always, Dad," Sturgis promised.

-----

ONE HOUR LATER  
VISITING OFFICERS' QUARTERS  
NAVAL SHIPYARD PORTSMOUTH

"Hello, Sir," the desk clerk said to Matthew. "May I help you?"

"Yes, Petty Officer," Matthew replied, handing her his blue retiree ID card and a credit card. "My son and I have reservations. The name is Turner."

"Give me just a moment, Captain," she said, reading his rank off his ID. She hit a few keys on her computer's keyboard. "Here it is. One room with two double beds for two nights."

"Would it be possible to extend that, Petty Officer?" Matthew asked. "My son just found out he's going to be involved in a mishap investigation and will probably need to stay in Norfolk past Thursday." He turned to Sturgis, who was facing away from the front desk, staring into the lobby. "Sturgis, how long do you think you'll need to stay? Sturgis?"

"Sorry, Dad," Sturgis said after a long moment, not turning to face his father, unable to tear his eyes away from the lobby. "What did you say?"

"Son, what is it?" Matthew asked, turning to follow his son's gaze, trying to figure out what was wrong. There were only three people sitting in the lobby that he could see – a young girl who looked to be in her early teens, a young man perhaps in his late teens, and an older woman that he judged to be in her early thirties. There seemed to be nothing remarkable about them. They were simply sitting on one of the couches, talking quietly amongst themselves.

Sturgis finally turned to face his father, shock evident on his face. "Dad, see that woman sitting over there," he pointed out, tilting his head towards the lobby. "Does she look familiar to you?"

Matthew studied the woman for a moment. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. She had short, reddish-brown hair and a complexion that he pegged to be possibly Middle Eastern in origin. "Somewhat," he replied, "but I don't think I've ever seen her before."

"Imagine her with darker hair, almost black," Sturgis said, "with a bit of a curl to it."

Matthew formed the picture his son painted in his mind, nearly gasping as he realized what Sturgis was getting at. "She looks a lot like Diane Schonke," he said, stunned. He'd officiated at Diane's funeral as a favor to her parents, with whom he'd become friendly during their children's years at the Academy. "I thought Diane was an only child."

"She was, Dad," Sturgis said with a shrug. "I suppose it's true, that old saying about everyone having a doppelganger out there somewhere. This woman appears to be a few years younger, however. She's about the age now that Diane was when she died, I would guess."

"Are you okay, Sturgis?" Matthew asked. Sturgis had never had any problem making and keeping friends, but Harmon Rabb, Jack Keeter and Diane Schonke had probably been the closest to him. When Diane had died five years earlier, Sturgis had told him that he felt like he'd lost a sister. Seeing a woman who looked like she could be Diane's twin had to be unsettling, to say the least. It was ironic seeing this woman here in Portsmouth, while the man that Diane had loved lay in a hospital just miles away.

Sturgis turned his back on the lobby. "I'm fine, Dad," he insisted. "It's just a shock. Diane's been dead for five years. I was just wondering what Harm would say if he saw Diane's virtual twin wandering around here. Anyway, what were you saying before?"

"I was asking how long you thought you might need to stay," Matthew said, accepting the change of subject. His son was the stoic type usually, not given to wearing his emotions on his sleeve. Sturgis wouldn't let himself dwell on the shock of what he'd just seen. "I thought you might want to extend your stay since you're representing Harm in front of the mishap board."

"Can I extend the reservation through Friday?" Sturgis asked the desk clerk. He turned back to his father. "Since Harm said he will possibly be sent home this weekend, I don't think I should have to stay later than that."

"It can be done, Sir," the desk clerk replied. "If you're going to be staying on official business, then I'll need a copy of your orders, Sir."

"Can I have my office fax them to you?" Sturgis asked. "This mishap investigation came up at the last moment. I was down here to visit my friend in the hospital."

"That will be fine, Sir," the clerk said. She tore a sheet of paper of the printer and pushed it across the counter to them. "I have you here for three nights. Please initial here, answer these questions here, and then sign at the bottom, Sir."

-----

As Chloe told Sergei about her grandparents' farm up in Vermont and all the horseback riding she did up there, Mac had the feeling someone was watching her. Looking up, she saw two men standing at the front desk, the younger of whom was studying her intently. When the other one turned to look at her as well, she considered walking over there and saying something, but then resolved to put it out of her mind.

They weren't leering at her, in which case she would definitely have said something. They looked….shocked, she decided – like they'd seen a ghost. Maybe one of them had served with Diane once upon a time. The Navy wasn't that large that it was outside the realm of possibility that she'd come across someone occasionally who'd served with Diane. In fact, after Harm had told her that Diane's last cruise had been aboard the _SeaHawk_, Mac had been surprised that half the crew hadn't done double takes the first time she'd stepped aboard the ship, just months after Diane's death. When both men turned their attention back to the petty officer behind the desk, she put it from her mind and turned her attention back to the conversation going on beside her.

"We do not have horses on our farm," Sergei said. "It is a small farm. We work the land ourselves and walk if we need to go somewhere. I did not learn how to drive a car until I joined the Army."

"I can't imagine not being able to drive," Chloe said breathlessly. "I'm not old enough to drive on the roads yet, but my grandparents let me drive around the farm sometimes. I'm going to get my learner's permit the day I turn fifteen. I've got to have the permit for a year before I can get my junior license, but I intend to get that as soon as I turn sixteen."

Mac smiled indulgently at her sister's exuberance. She was sorry that Chloe was leaving today. Kyle wanted to take his daughter back to Vermont and visit with his parents before he reported back to duty this weekend. She'd miss Chloe's bright, sunny nature, which had returned full force now that Chloe was convinced Harm was going to be okay. Chloe had protested when Kyle said they had to leave, but had finally agreed after talking to Sarah. Mac wasn't sure what Harm's grandmother had said, but whatever it was had convinced Chloe to accept leaving.

"Here comes Dad," Chloe said reluctantly.

"It'll be okay," Mac assured her, putting her arm around Chloe's shoulders. "Remember, your dad said you could come back later in the summer. By then, Harm won't be asleep or on his way there every time you want to talk to him."

"He'd better not be," Chloe teased. "You two owe me a trip to Camden Yards, so try not to wear your new husband out."

As Sergei looked puzzled, Mac rolled her eyes, her cheeks tinted pink at her sister's suggestive comment. It was comforting, however. Some things never changed, and Chloe was one of them. She wondered if she and Harm could survive a few days together in the same apartment with Chloe.

"Chloe, are you ready to go?" Kyle asked.

"Dad, we have to wait for Harm's family," Chloe said insistently. "They're going to meet us down here to say goodbye before going back to the hospital."

"I know, Chloe," Kyle said patiently. Mac thought she could see the amusement in his eyes at his daughter's delaying tactics. "I ran into Mr. and Mrs. Burnett. They're stopping at Mrs. Rabb's room to pick her up, and then they'll be down here."

"Okay, Dad," Chloe muttered, brightening instantly when she looked towards the hallway. "Here they come."

-----

Sturgis and Matthew finished checking in and turned to head towards their room when they saw Trish, Frank and Sarah walking in their direction.

"Matthew and Sturgis Turner," Trish exclaimed as she gave them a hug in turn. "I assume you heard about Harm's crash."

"Yes, we did, Trish," Matthew explained. "I checked with the hospital and they said he could probably have visitors besides family starting today, so we drove down from D.C. this morning."

"I'm sure Harm was happy to see you," Frank said, shaking each man's hand. "I know it was a big help to have Sturgis around after his first crash."

"Thank you, Mr. Burnett," Sturgis replied. "I was happy to help a buddy out." He turned to Sarah. "Hello, Mrs. Rabb. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you too, Sturgis," Sarah replied, stretching up to kiss his cheek. "And you, Matthew. Come and meet the rest of the family." She motioned them towards the lobby.

"That's right, Mrs. Rabb," Matthew said. "Harm said that your other grandson arrived Sunday night. Thank God the Chechens released him."

"Believe me, Matthew," Sarah said, "I've thanked God a lot the last few days for both of my grandsons. I wasn't just talking about Sergei, though. Harm's wife is also here."

"Harm's wife?" Sturgis repeated, stunned. "He didn't mention he was married when we saw him earlier."

"Humph," Sarah muttered. "In a way, I suppose that doesn't surprise me, given the circumstances. It's a rather long story, and I can understand Harm not wanting to get into it right now." At their concerned looks, she added, "Oh, it's not that Harm married the wrong woman or someone we disapprove of. She's a wonderful woman, just perfect for him. I'll let him tell you the story if he wants to. Come on, they're right over there."

As he followed his father and Harm's family into the lobby, Sturgis was confused. There were now four people in the lobby, the three he and his father had seen earlier, now joined by a man. Surely, the woman couldn't be who Sarah was talking about.

"Are you ready to go, Chloe?" Sarah asked, embracing the teenage girl.

"Yes, Gram," Chloe replied with a pout.

"Remember," Sarah said, "you'll be back before you know it. And if you're in town long enough, I'll insist that Harm and Mac bring you up to the farm for a weekend."

"I'd like that, Gram," Chloe said. She glanced back at Kyle, a hopeful look on her face.

"Thank you for the offer, Mrs. Rabb," Kyle said. "I'm sure my parents and I can agree to that."

"Good," Sarah said. She turned back to Sturgis and Matthew, pointing out each person as she introduced them. "Sturgis and Matthew Turner, this is Chloe Anderson and her father, Chief Petty Officer Kyle Anderson. Over here is my grandson, Sergei Zhukov, and this is my granddaughter-in-law, Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie. Chloe, Kyle, Sergei, and Mac – this is Commander Sturgis Turner and his father, retired Captain and Chaplain Matthew Turner. Sturgis attended the Academy with Harm."

-----

Mac inhaled sharply at Sarah's last statement, realizing that Diane was the reason why Sturgis and Matthew had been staring at her when they'd been standing at the front desk. It took her a moment to find her voice when it was her turn to greet them. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, her voice sounding weak to her ears. "You went to the Academy with Harm, Commander?"

"Yes, I did, Colonel," Sturgis replied politely, scrutinizing her intently.

"Then you knew Diane," Mac stated in a stronger tone.

At Sturgis' hesitant nod, Chloe piped in, "Who's Diane?"

"Just an old friend of Harm's from the Academy," Mac said evasively. "She died five years ago….this month, actually."

"Oh," Chloe commented. Fortunately, she seemed to recognize that it was a difficult topic for Mac and didn't say anything else on the subject.

"Chloe, our taxi is here to take us to the airport," Kyle said.

"Darn," Chloe muttered. "I guess I've gotta go."

Mac pulled her into a hug. "Gram's right," she reminded her. "You'll be back before you know it."

"I know," Chloe said. "Take care of that bodacious husband of yours and remember that you owe me trips to Camden Yards and to Gram's farm. And remember – when you guys decide you're going to do the whole church and the white dress thing, I'm your flower girl."

A blush crept over Mac's cheeks at Chloe's usual, but no less embarrassing, description of Harm. "And I'm sure if we were to somehow forget any of that," she teased, "you'd remind us."

"Only every week," Chloe joked. She gave hugs to each member of Harm's family and nodded towards Sturgis and Matthew. "It was nice to meet all of you."

Mac sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as she watched Chloe and Kyle walk out. It was almost like when she'd watched Chloe walk away with her father two years ago, only Harm wasn't beside her to promise to help put the puzzle pieces of her life back together. She smiled wanly as she felt a hand on her shoulder, turning to meet Sarah's concerned gaze. "I miss her," she said simply. "I don't get to see her as much since she moved to her grandparents' farm in Vermont, and it's never for long enough when I do."

"I know," Sarah said, hugging her. She leaned over to whisper in Mac's ear, "It is okay to let go and not be so strong all the time."

"Thanks, Gram," Mac whispered back.

"I didn't realize you were in the area, Sturgis," Trish said. "I think the last time Harm mentioned you, he said you were still at Pearl."

"I was," Sturgis confirmed. "The Navy decided they wanted me at JAG HQ, so I start there next week as a new staff judge advocate. Apparently, it's good timing since Harm asked me today to represent him before the mishap board, not to mention the fact that I can pick up some of the work load while Harm is recovering."

An uneasy silence followed his statement, broken by Sergei's confused question to Mac. "Why are you not representing Harm? Is there some rule in America that you cannot be a lawyer for your husband?" he asked.

"Not as such," Mac replied, "but it's probably a good idea for someone else to represent Harm. I'm too close to the situation." She pressed her lips into a firm line, unwilling to discuss the subject further

"Mac?" Sarah said softly as the conversation around them continued with the topic of the mishap investigation. "It's okay."

"Of course it is," Mac replied just as quietly. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Sarah motioned her to the side, just far enough away from the others so that they couldn't be overheard. "Harm didn't mention this to you, did he?" she asked gently.

"He just hasn't had a chance to," Mac replied. "Commander Turner just got here today. I haven't seen Harm yet today, and he was asleep last night when we went to the hospital." She forced a smile, trying to deflect Sarah's scrutiny. "Gram, you know your grandson. He wouldn't keep something like this from me, especially since I was going to find out whether he said anything or not."

"That doesn't mean you're not upset that Harm didn't talk to you about this first," Sarah pointed out.

"I'm not upset," Mac insisted. She turned back to the group. "Is everyone ready to go back to the hospital? I'm sure Harm is waiting for us."

Noticing Sarah still watching her, she forced a reassuring smile, pushing back the tendrils of doubt creeping into her mind.

-----

AN HOUR LATER  
SURGICAL CARE UNIT  
PORTSMOUTH NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

Harm's expression brightened as his family entered his room. "I'm awake this time," he joked with a grin, accepting their hugs and kisses in greeting. "I've been working on myself."

"Just as long as you realize that you do need as much rest as you can get," Sarah said firmly as she sat down.

"Yes, Gram," Harm said, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

"Harmon," Trish said, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. "Listen to your grandmother."

"Yes, Mom," he said as he noticed that there weren't enough chairs for everyone.

Scooting over and patting the now empty space beside him on the bed, he motioned to Mac with the other hand. She smiled as she curled up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. "I'm sorry I missed you all last night," Harm said.

"Gram's right," Mac said. "You need all the rest you can get."

"It's a conspiracy," Harm complained, glancing at Frank, who shrugged.

"You're not the only one we're worried about," Sarah pointed out. "Your brother needs to eat more."

Harm glanced at Sergei, who smiled. "Grandma says that to me at every meal," he said. "If I were to eat as much as she wants me to, I would be too large to fit into my clothes."

"Then we'll buy you some bigger clothes," Sarah pointed out.

"Sergei," Harm said conspiratorially, "the easiest way to deal with Gram is to simply say yes to whatever she says, and then do what you want anyway."

"That's enough, Harmon," Sarah said, chuckling. "I won't have you undoing the eighteen years of hard work Sergei's mother did raising this sweet young man by you teaching him your bad habits." She turned to Mac. "You'd better watch out for this one once you start having kids of your own."

Everyone laughed except for Harm, who stopped at the burning feeling in his lungs, which were still irritated by the salt water he'd spent all those hours in. He settled for watching his family interact, happy that they all were getting along despite the unusual circumstances which had brought them together.

"Speaking of bad habits," Trish said, "we ran into one of your old Academy cohorts at the VOQ."

"You saw Sturgis?" he asked, knowing there was only one person she could be talking about. He glanced at Mac, but she was looking away, and he couldn't get a good read of the expression on her face. He wondered what Sturgis had said to them.

"Yes, we did," Frank confirmed. "He said that you asked him to represent him."

"I did," he admitted, wincing inwardly. He realized that he had some damage control to do when he covered Mac's hand, which was resting on his chest, with his own, her fingers tense as he clasped his fingers around hers. He needed to talk to her, but this wasn't a conversation to have in front of the rest of the family. He shot Sarah a look silently pleading for her help.

Sarah nodded. "Trish, Frank, Sergei," she said, "why don't you accompany me to the cafeteria? I need a little something to tide me over until lunch."

"Mom?" Trish began.

"Gram," Mac said at the same time, believing that she knew what Sarah was doing, "it's not necessary."

"Yes, it is, dear," Sarah said insistently. "We'll be back in about half an hour."

-----

After Trish, Frank and Sergei followed Sarah out of the room, Trish spoke up, "He didn't tell Mac, did he, Mom?"

"No, he didn't," Sarah confirmed with a sigh. "I'm sure he planned to tell her and probably never thought that she'd run into Sturgis first."

Trish shook her head. "I'm sure you're right, Mom," she said. "I know my son. Sometimes he does things without considering all the consequences first. He's just not use to taking into account what his wife is going to think about what he does first."

"He'll learn," Frank added. "He's not the first man to discover there's a learning curve when it comes to marriage."

-----

"It wasn't necessary for your grandmother to do that," Mac said. "I don't want your family to feel like I'm monopolizing your time."

"I wanted Gram to do that," Harm said, shifting slightly so he could look into her eyes. "I think we need to talk about Sturgis."

"There's nothing to talk about," Mac said. "I understand why you'd want someone else to represent you."

"Mac….Sarah, it's not a matter of wanting someone else to do it," he said. "I trust you with my life. You know that. I just think you've got enough to worry about right now and when the Admiral suggested…."

"You talked to the Admiral about this?" Mac interrupted, more harshly than she'd intended.

"When he stopped by yesterday before he went back to Washington," Harm confirmed. "I was going to talk to you about it when you visited last night…."

"But you were asleep when I came by," she finished in a calmer tone. "It's okay, although I'm not sure how not acting as your lawyer is supposed to make me worry less about the mishap investigation."

"There's nothing to worry about there at all," Harm insisted. "It's routine in this case. They'll discover exactly what happened – we suffered massive systems failure and ended up flying in the middle of a storm that wasn't where the meteorologists said it was."

"You sound so sure," Mac said.

"Of course I'm sure," he replied. "I have nothing to worry about." He studied her intently for a long moment, his gaze softening the longer he looked into her deep brown eyes. "So are we okay?"

Mac stretched up, pressing her lips to his. Harm turned more fully towards her, deepening the kiss as he pulled her more tightly against him, moaning softly as her lips parted against his, her tongue darting out to tease his lower lip. Slowly pulling away after a long moment, they rested their foreheads together. Mac gave him a soft smile as she took his free hand in hers. This was the only thing that mattered.

-----

To be concluded in part 15….


	15. Chapter 15

SATURDAY AFTERNOON  
2 JUNE 2001  
PORTSMOUTH NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

Ever since Dr. Stafford had let him out of bed on Wednesday morning, Harm had pushed himself every day to walk just a little bit farther, despite the fact that the first time he'd swung his legs over the side of the bed, he'd nearly tumbled out of it when the room had started spinning around him. Only the fast reflexes of Sergei and Mac, standing on either side of him, had stopped that from happening.

By that evening, Harm had been able to make it from his bed to the bathroom and back again without someone hovering next to him to catch him if he stumbled. He'd made it out into the hallway the following morning, dragging his IV with him on a pole, much to the chagrin of the nurse making rounds that morning who hadn't yet figured out that Harm pushed himself at his own pace, not that of the doctors and nurses overseeing his care. He'd tired out not more than fifteen feet down the hall from his room, but instead of being discouraged, he'd merely seen it as a goal to surpass the next time he made it out of his room.

Thursday had brought both good news and bad news. With Mac at his side, he'd made it all the way down to the nurses' station, fifty feet from his room, on his third excursion of the day - but with an unexpected side effect. The more he walked, the more his right knee hurt, and when he'd walked back to his room, he'd had to lean on Mac the last ten feet. An orthopedist had been consulted, and it had been determined that he'd somehow strained his knee. That night, a rather vivid dream led him to recall the cause – his chute lines had gotten tangled around that leg when he'd landed in the water, yanking him down. Since he wasn't up to the demands of physical therapy yet, he'd been given the cane, a brace for his knee, and a warning to take it easy.

At that point, Mac had started keeping track of the number of times someone said the words 'slow down' or 'take it easy', snickering under her breath every time those phrases were used. When Trish had noticed and asked her about it, Mac had said that she found it amusing that Harm had the nurses so snowed by his charm that they didn't realize that those phrases just were not a part of his vocabulary. Although he was gratified to see his wife and mother getting along, it was a little too much when they'd started swapping stories about various injuries in the past and how quickly he'd made himself get better. His first crash wasn't mentioned, which made it easier for all of them to forget for just a few minutes that he wasn't going to just bounce back from this one.

The knee brace wasn't the most comfortable thing he'd ever worn – as usual, the military had gone for the lowest cost instead of the greatest comfort – but it did provide enough stability to allow him to continue his treks down the hall.

Friday afternoon, Mac had gotten permission to take him outside in a wheelchair, where he'd been surprised with a picnic lunch – takeout from the Officers' Club - brought by his family. For Harm, who had just graduated that morning to solid foods, the fruit salad he'd been given had been the best thing he'd tasted in recent memory. The outing had ended with him and Mac taking a brief walk around the grounds while holding hands.

When they'd taken a break on a bench under a tree, they'd engaged in a kissing session, which had quickly moved from playful to steamy before they'd both remember that they were in public. As Harm had started to pull his hand away from the collar of her blouse, he'd discovered that Mac wore two dog tag chains around her neck. She'd made a great show of unhooking one of the chains and sliding his wedding band off – when Harm couldn't remember even having one, she'd reminded him that Skates and Robert had donated theirs – and placing it back on his finger before she fastened his dog tags back around his neck. Teasing him about the occasional holes in his memory, which seemed at times to be about the oddest things, she'd told him that now he could look at his tags in order to remember who he was.

Just a couple of hours ago it had been a time of goodbyes. Since they couldn't all fly in the helo to Norfolk with him, and since Harm and Mac's cars were both in Norfolk, everyone was driving back to Washington, leaving in plenty of time to meet him at Bethesda when he would land. Mac had nearly handed off the keys to her car so she could fly back to Washington with him, but Harm had convinced her to drive back since his family wasn't familiar with the roads here and she could lead them to Bethesda. Harm had accompanied them down to the main doors of the hospital, in a wheelchair pushed by a nurse this time.

Once he'd returned to the ward, he'd watched a little bit of television, and then decided to take one last walk down the hall while he waited for Dr. Stafford to come by for one final exam before signing off on his transfer to Bethesda.

"Commander!"

Harm turned around, gripping his cane in his right hand, to find Skates and her fiancé walking towards him, both dressed in summer whites. He leaned against the wall to wait for them to catch up to him, not quite willing to admit to himself that his body needed the rest. After being up since 0630 without falling back asleep – the first day he'd managed that feat – he was starting to wear down. Still, he wasn't ready to stop completely yet. He could do that on the flight to Bethesda.

"You're looking good, Skates," he said with a smile.

"You're looking…." she began hesitantly.

"I'll settle for 'better'," Harm suggested.

"Works for me, Sir," Skates replied, "although you'd look better with some hair."

Harm ran a hand over his shaved head, feeling the stubble. He hadn't quite gotten used to it yet, and when he'd first looked at himself in the mirror, he was shocked at the five o'clock shadow effect all over his head. He grinned and said, "Mac says it almost makes me look like a Marine."

They all laughed. "Trust a Marine to see a bright side like that," Skates said. "So how are you really doing, Harm?"

Harm shrugged. "Better than I was this time a week ago," he said, "but the doctor keeps warning me that I've got a ways to go. He said that it would be up to the neurologist who takes over my care at Bethesda, but that I should anticipate another six weeks minimum before I can return to work. Of course, my long-term goal is to be able to pass my flight physical, but no one's placing any bets yet on when I'll be ready for that - assuming I'll be allowed to take it."

"I wouldn't bet against you, Harm," Skates said.

"Thanks," Harm said. "So how about you?"

"I'm still grounded until my ribs heal," she replied. "By the time the doctor clears me, it'll be almost time for the wedding, so I probably won't return to the air until after that. Gives me more time to take care of all those last minute details before the ceremony, since I've left a lot of it to Robert."

"I thought you were giving it up, Skates," Harm said, confused.

Harm watched as Skates and Robert shared a look, seemingly holding a silent conversation. When Skates turned back to Harm, she was smiling. "Robert and I have done a lot of talking this past week," she explained. "It's odd that it took something like this to remind me how much I love what I do. It made me realize that I'm not quite ready to give it up. Someday I will, but not yet."

"I just want Beth to be happy," Robert added with a smile of his own as he gazed at his fiancée. "If she needs to continue her career as an aviator to do that, then I'm behind her one hundred percent."

The remark struck a cord with Harm as he remembered a conversation two years previously, when Mac had accused him of valuing flying more than everything else in his life. How might the last two years have been different if Mac had been more supportive?

He pushed the thought from his mind. It didn't matter anymore. Mac was now his partner in life. The issues of the past weren't important anymore. "Well, maybe we'll fly together again someday," Harm said.

"I look forward to it, Harm," Skates said.

Harm saw Dr. Stafford walking towards them. "Ah, it looks like my ticket out of this place is here," he said.

"We should be heading out ourselves," Robert said. "We're supposed to meet with the minister performing our ceremony later this afternoon in Annapolis."

"That reminds me, Harm," Skates added. "Your wedding invitation should have arrived already. I expect to see you and Mac there."

"It's in four weeks, right?" Harm asked. Skates nodded in reply. "Then I see no reason why I won't be able to travel to Annapolis by then. Mac and I wouldn't miss it. Which reminds me, did I thank you before for the wedding gift?" He held up his left hand, his thumb pressing forward his ring finger.

"No thanks necessary, Harm," Skates said. "Robert and I were both happy to do it. After what happened, I can understand why you'd want to grab hold of what's important. We both do. If we could help out…."

"It'll also give Beth and me a chance to go shopping for rings together, Sir," Robert added.

Harm smiled. "Still, thank you," he said.

"You're welcome, Harm," Skates said. "See you around the fleet."

Dr. Stafford waited until Skates and Robert had walked off, and then joined Harm. "Why am I not surprised, Commander," he said, "that you're already plotting ways to get out from under your doctor's restrictions?"

"Well, Sir," Harm said with a grin, "I consider more that I'm applying myself to recovering my health."

"I encourage you to keep up that attitude, Commander," Stafford said. "Just try not to overdo it."

"I'll keep that in mind, Sir," he said.

"You have recovered from the surgery as well or better than any of my previous patients, Commander," he said. "Just remember that this was brain surgery. You're not just going to bounce back. That's not to say that it's not possible for you to return to normal; it'll just take time."

"Understood, Sir," Harm said, resisting the urge to sigh. He'd heard all this before.

"Let's walk back to your room, Commander," Stafford said. Harm nodded, walking beside the doctor back towards his room. "I've already contacted Dr. Grayson, the chief of neurosurgery at Bethesda, and updated her on your progress. She said that she'll be there to meet you when you arrive at Bethesda, and she'll let you know when you need to return to see her after you're released from the hospital. Ultimately, it'll be up to her to sign off on your return to duty, but as I indicated before, it will probably be at least six weeks before that happens."

"Yes, Sir," Harm said.

"I also have here a consult for an orthopedist," Stafford continued, flipping to another page in Harm's chart. "It'll be up to Dr. Grayson to determine when your head is ready to handle the rigors of physical therapy that you'll have to do on your knee, so wait until you've seen her before you make the appointment with orthopedics. We're sending you to Bethesda with enough of your medication to get you through at least a couple of weeks, and then Dr. Grayson can reevaluate. Any questions?"

Harm shook his head, pleased that the motion brought very little pain. "No, Sir," he replied. "I think that covers everything."

"Good," Stafford said, closing the chart. "I'll give this to the corpsman who will accompany you on the medivac flight. Good luck, Commander."

"Thank you, Sir," Harm said as they reached his room. Stafford walked off, leaving Harm standing outside his room. He glanced inside at the bed and sighed. As he slowly made his way to the bed and lay down on top of the covers, he wondered how long it would be before he could get through an entire day without wearing out. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to see the wisdom of not returning to work for six weeks.

-----

SUNDAY AFTERNOON  
3 JUNE 2001  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION

"How are you feeling?" Mac asked as she parked the SUV in front of Harm's building and turned off the ignition. Harm was reclining in the passenger seat, his eyes closed. Noting that his face seemed a little flushed, she pressed her hand against his cheek. He opened his eyes, looking at her wearily.

"I've never gotten motion sickness a day in my life," he admitted, "until now."

"How'd you manage the flight to Bethesda yesterday?" she asked, concerned. His simple statement was a sign that although he might be out of the hospital, he still had a ways to go before he was one hundred percent.

"They gave me a mild sedative," he replied as he pushed himself up, breathing slowly. "I was also lying down for the flight. I just closed my eyes if everything started spinning around me."

Mac swiftly unfastened her seat belt and pushed her door open while Harm fumbled with his own seat belt. Walking around to the other side of the car, she opened his door and offered her hand to him. He allowed her to help him, draping an arm around her shoulders to steady himself after he was out of the car. Placing her arm around his waist, she slowly led him into the building. Once in the elevator heading up to his apartment, he pulled her closer to him, resting his head against hers.

Harm groaned as the elevator jerked to a stop. "I'm sorry," Mac said as she released Harm to open the elevator door and the grate. "I thought that with your knee, staying at your apartment with the elevator would be better so you don't have to climb the stairs."

"I'll be okay," Harm said as they made their way to his door. "I think it's just the jerkiness of the elevator after the ride home. It will get better. Anyway, you're right. I'd have to climb stairs at your building."

Mac opened the door and led him inside. Jingo, who'd been picked up from Bud and Harriet's the night before, looked up from his place on the floor in front of the couch, then laid his head back down when he recognized that his owner was otherwise occupied. "So where do you want to go – the couch or the bed?" she asked.

"The bed," he replied after a moment. She could hear the reluctance in his tone and knew what it probably cost him to admit weakness. "I think I want to lie down for a bit."

"Okay," she agreed, leading him up the stairs to the bedroom. "Why don't you strip and crawl into bed while I get you some water so you can take your medicine?"

"Maybe I should just forgo the pills," he said as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, his voice muffled for a second by the fabric. "I need to get off that stuff as soon as possible. I'm going to need a waiver as it is to be restored to full flight status, and that's going to be an uphill battle. I don't need to become dependent on that stuff."

Mac returned with a glass of water and two pills, holding both out to him. "I know that you need something when you don't throw me a traffic light at my comment about stripping," she said as he took the water and pills from her.

"Why would I throw my wife a traffic light?" he teased. He took the pills and the water from her.

"You've got a point," she replied with a smile. "I guess I'm still getting used to that idea."

"So why don't you get used to it by joining me?" he asked with a grin, holding out his hand to her. "Don't tell me you can't use the rest either."

"I won't," she said, taking the now-empty glass from him. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll join you. I promised to call your parents and let them know we were home. Do you think you'll feel up to visitors later? Your mom and grandma offered to make dinner for everyone here tonight."

Harm glanced at his alarm clock as he slid beneath the bed covers. "I think that'll be okay," he said. "Maybe if they come over about six?"

"Okay, I'll tell them," she called out. A few minutes later, she rejoined him in the bedroom and started stripping out of her own clothes. "Everyone said to tell you to get your rest and they'll see us later. Frank said they'll stop by and pick up Sergei at my apartment on their way over."

"I guess someone needs to think about transportation for him," Harm said, watching as she walked over to the closet dressed in only a matching midnight blue bra and panties. "By the way, thanks for letting him stay at your place."

"No sense in my place going to waste since I'm still locked into the lease on it," she said, leaving out the fact that the main reason she still had a lease was that the plan had been for Mic to move in with her after their wedding. After going into business for himself, Mic had struggled the last few months to make his rent payments. Since his lease was nearly up anyway, it had made more sense for him to give up his apartment.

Fortunately, her landlord kept Saturday hours, so it had been relatively easy for her to stop by after they'd gotten back to D.C. the day before and secure permission for Sergei to stay at her place. The lease was still in her name, and she was still responsible for the payments. She'd been a tenant long enough that her landlord permitted the arrangement once the circumstances had been explained. Now, Sergei had a place to live and didn't have to worry about his immigration status, as he would have had he tried to rent a place on his own.

"I see you already moved some of your stuff over here," he commented as she pulled a t-shirt and gym shorts that he didn't recognize as his out of one drawer.

"When I dropped Sergei off at my apartment yesterday," she explained as she pulled on the clothes, "I picked up enough clothes for a few days. I figured I'd go back later in the week and get some more of my things once you and I have had a chance to make some room here for my things. When we cleaned your apartment yesterday evening, I cleared out one drawer for myself. I didn't want to move too much around without you."

She slipped under the covers, stretching out on her side beside him. "You didn't have to wait," he said between yawns. "This is your home now, too."

"I like the sound of that," she said as she leaned over to brush her lips over his. Pulling back, she smiled as his eyes drifted closed. Closing her eyes, Mac let herself be lulled by the even sound of his breathing.

-----

MONDAY MORNING  
11 JUNE 2001  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac tried to ignore the looks directed at her as she strode into the bullpen. For the last week, she'd tried to put out of her mind what people might think about her sudden marriage to Harm on the same day she was supposed to have married Mic. It was easy to do that while she was at home, throwing herself into helping Harm recover. Now she had to face the stares and hear the whispers behind her back. There would be no questions to her face – not in this office – but the fact that this was a military organization wouldn't stop the gossip.

She stopped short just inside the door as she noticed that Harm's office was open and the light on. "Gunny, what's going on?" she asked as Gunny walked up to her.

"The Admiral said that Commander Turner could use Commander Rabb's office for now," he explained. "Maintenance has some work to do in Commander Turner's office. It appears something died behind the wall."

"Oh," Mac said. "Do you know if the Admiral is available?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied. "He wanted to see you as soon as you arrived. Also, a package with your new name tags is sitting on your desk, ma'am, and a new sign has already been placed above your door. I've also e-mailed you a copy of the form you need to fill out to get a new ID card. You'll need a copy of your marriage certificate when you go to get the new card."

"Thank you, Gunny," she replied, handing him her briefcase and cover. "Can you put these in my office?"

As Gunny headed towards her office with her things, Mac continued on to the Admiral's office. Tiner stood as she entered the outer office and said, "Good morning, Colonel. The Admiral said to go right on in."

Mac entered the Admiral's office, closing the door behind her, and came to attention in front of A.J.'s desk. "Colonel Rabb reporting as ordered, Sir," she announced.

"As you were, Colonel," A.J. replied, removing his glasses and tossing them on the desk. "Take a seat. How is Commander Rabb?"

"He's doing reasonably well under the circumstances, Sir," she replied. "He had his stitches out this morning. He's still not allowed to drive, but his parents are going to stay at least another week, so if he needs to go somewhere, they can take him if I'm at work."

Mac had actually talked about taking some more time off – the two weeks she'd taken off so far were the two weeks she'd already planned to take for what would have been her honeymoon with Mic – but Harm had pointed out that they were both growing restless with the inactivity. Even if he couldn't go back to work yet, she should, he'd said. He'd also suggested that she could relieve his boredom by coming home and bouncing ideas for her cases off him. She had finally agreed, insisting however that she take him to his appointment to have his stitches taken out, since it was something of a milestone in his recovery.

"Good," A.J. said. He picked a folder up off his desk and passed it to her. "I hope you're ready to hit the ground running. Lance Corporal Miles Benson was arrested last night in the parking lot of the Enlisted Club at Quantico for possession of marijuana. He claims he was framed, that someone planted the drugs in his car. You'll prosecute; I've already handed the defense to Mattoni."

"Yes, Sir," she replied.

"That will be all, Colonel," A.J. said.

Mac stood and came to attention for a second before turning on her heel and leaving his office, glancing through the case file on her way back to her office. It was a first offense, but the corporal's claim of a frame-up was weak. An MP had seen the corporal unlock his car door and thinking the man drunk, had intended to stop the corporal from driving home. When he'd asked the corporal to step out of the car and hand over his keys, he'd seen a partially smoked joint in the ashtray.

"Colonel, can I have a moment?" Sturgis asked, intercepting Mac just outside her office door. "I need to talk to you about Harm's mishap investigation."

"Come in, Commander," she said, continuing into her office and taking a seat behind her desk. While she put her briefcase away and booted her computer, Sturgis took a seat in front of the desk.

"How's Harm doing?" he asked.

"Harm's fine, Commander," she replied. "He had an appointment with the neurologist this morning. She said he's doing well, and he got his stitches out this morning."

"That's good," Sturgis said. "If it's not a problem, I'd like to stop by sometime and see him."

"I'm sure he'd be happy to see you," she said. "Commander, not that I don't want to discuss my husband, but I do have a lot to catch up on, so if you could just tell me what you need….."

"I'd like to make an appointment with you to get a statement for the mishap investigation," Sturgis said calmly, seemingly unruffled by her brusque manner.

"I don't mind giving a statement," she replied, puzzled, "but I'm not sure what you're looking for. I wasn't in the Tomcat that night and wasn't on the carrier until shortly before Harm was rescued. We spoke briefly by phone just before he left the carrier, but I don't see how that would be of any use to you."

"What did you talk about, Colonel?" he asked.

"It was a private conversation, Commander," Mac replied tensely.

"Colonel," Sturgis said patiently, "some questions have come up in the course of my discussions with the mishap investigator, and I think you can shed some light on the answers."

"What kind of questions, Commander?" she asked, trying to ignore the heavy weight in the pit of her stomach. She was getting the feeling that she was not going to like where he was heading with this.

Sturgis sighed and looked down at the floor, as if pondering his answer. Finally, he looked back up and said, "The mishap investigator has some information that suggests Harm should never have been in the air that night, and that he insisted on flying, despite the risk from the weather."

"Are you trying to tell me, Commander," she demanded, "that it's been suggested that Harm purposely risked his life – and Skates' life – to get back to D.C. to me?"

-----

To be continued in Drifting On A Lonely Sea Chapter IV – Lean On Me. Harm works on recovering from his injuries, determined to return to work and regain his flight status as quickly as possible. With the questions brought up by the mishap investigation hanging over their heads, Harm and Mac find that they are rich in people willing to help out, but have a hard time leaning on each other.


End file.
